


We'll Fuse When We Collide

by empires, NitroJen



Series: The Stars in Us Align [1]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Red Hood and the Outlaws (Comics)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Space Opera, Blood and Gore, Character Death, M/M, Technobabble, UST, Violence, poor ship etiquette, scyfy, ship combat, this is not a star trek au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-12
Updated: 2018-11-12
Packaged: 2019-08-22 03:07:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 41,687
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16589669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/empires/pseuds/empires, https://archiveofourown.org/users/NitroJen/pseuds/NitroJen
Summary: Sent to investigate a signal in the far reaches of space, Cosmic Alliance officers Lt. Dick Grayson and Second Lt. Jason Todd must move past their rivalry when everything is not as it seems.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Special thank you to our fabulous fanartists who created works for this story. They were very patient through our writing and revision process.
> 
> @airdanteineblues [Air's tumblr](https://airsart.tumblr.com/)
> 
> @cassandrasfisher [Fanworks on AO3](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16599797)
> 
> Thank you to @pentapoda and @volavi for the alpha read. Thank you for @three3isme for the beta read. This story changed for the better with your insightful commentary!

The light of cabin 1294 flickers on, emitting a soft blue glow that fills the space. Even after spending years under the artificial sun that gave life to Colony GC1939 and three years basking under the double suns that twined around the Cosmic Alliance Academy, Dick Grayson chooses to wake using the strange light that he remembers from his childhood. The soft blue hue fills him with warmth and comfort like he hasn’t known in a long time. It feels like home.

Dick’s lashes flutter open revealing the bulkhead protecting his quarters. Seconds later, a screen appears above him. The sight reminds him that he’s been far from home for a long time.

Each morning, the ship’s latest informational dump processes through the different networks used to keep the ship running. Dick has modified his access to collate the information most relevant to his daily duties. It streams upwards, and Dick manages to catch the status alerts as they scroll by. He’d updated his sleep cycle to awaken at a time calculated for peak morning efficiency, and it appears to be working. He feels lucid, ready for the day.

“ORACLE,” he calls, addressing the command tract AI. “I can reconcile the latest diagnostic reports with the ship’s trial data on the bridge this morning. Mark the updated transmission log for me over breakfast.”

“Sector codes for Dark Horse-1JA13778ae2X5 have been added to your daily work log, lieutenant.”

“Thank you.” Dick swings his legs from beneath the covers and climbs out of bed. The light increases steadily and with it, Dick’s energy. It’s going to be a good morning he’s sure of it.

The lieutenant’s quarters afford some of the luxuries he hasn’t had since the academy, including ensuite restoration facilities with a sonic and liquid shower. He chooses the later today, sighing as the warm water sluices down his back. Even with the ship’s regulations, the water use isn’t near as restricted as it was back on Gotham Colony, and he enjoys the feeling.

After dressing, Dick brings up the rest of the evening reports to familiarize himself with today’s routine. It’s been almost two years since he graduated academy and two months since he’s joined the Andromeda on his first deep space exploration mission. Today marks his second rotation on the ship’s bridge, and he will be ready.

Dick smooths the uniform collar and adjusts his shoulders a final time. As a member of the command team, his daily uniform is charcoal gray with a block of blue over the torso and shoulders and blue stripes running down his arms and sides. The material is comfortable, unlike the more formal Alliance uniforms. It’s made to handle whatever stresses the crew might be under. Two black stripes run across the cuffs of his sleeves, lined with silver piping marking him as the second officer in charge of the missions. He doesn’t have four stripes, not yet, those are only for captains, but it’s still an honor to have the stripes as a Lieutenant at such a young age.

The path is unfolding in front of him. He can wait a little longer, after all he's worked hard to get here.

The day Dick graduated from the Cosmic Alliance Academy was the happiest day of his life. The Academy had been a challenge in more ways than one. Being the adopted son of Bruce Wayne meant Dick was always trying to prove himself to his professors, higher ups, and classmates. Long ago, the media had painted Dick as a vapid playboy, much like the man that had taken him in and those rumors preceded his academy life. It was a harsh contrast to the reality of Dick’s everyday life where Bruce made sure he received the best physical and mental education possible.

Dick had received a lot satisfaction watching the way people reacted to his intelligence, especially those that thought he was just a pretty face. Dick took that and other challenges the Academy presented in stride. On the outside, Dick made it look like a game, achieving the highest scores each week, breaking records daily, but in reality, Dick was proving himself to everyone that ever doubted him. His popularity had stemmed from his fame at first, but then people were drawn to him because they genuinely liked him, It was the type of friendship Dick hadn’t felt in years. People still hated him of course, but he challenged them as much as he challenged the others. In the end, nothing mattered more than the goals Dick set for himself.

They are simple: first, escape the shelter of Wayne Tech, his adopted father’s company whose long reach and technological innovations spread into the lives of billions across several galaxies and the very Cosmic Alliance itself. The second, establish himself within the Cosmic Alliance and attain the rank of captain, which would allow him to helm his own ship. The third is to explore the universe.

Two out of three isn’t that bad, and he’s well on his way to captain.

“Alright, Grayson. Let’s do this.” Dick walks into the empty corridor and starts the long trip to his future.

 

* * *

 

For his second bridge rotation, Dick mans the message relay where he coordinates and disseminates missives, reports, and declassified briefs to the appropriate command class. It’s a position with which he’s become familiar.

After graduating from the academy, Dick had been assigned a communications position at Point Mons Aerolet, one of the CA’s premier bases in the center of the Alliance cluster. The prestige and work were excellent, managing communications between incoming Alliance ships and the base interesting, but for Dick, it was an insult to his aspirations, especially when classmates that hadn’t performed nearly as well as he had, were assigned to work on exploratory vessels. The whole situation had Bruce written all over it. Dick had built a reputation at the academy for a reason though, and after four months of angry calls back and forth and some sweet talking of his Alliance officers, Dick was assigned a position that put him on the path he’d wanted to follow since he’d signed up for Academy.

Now, he was aboard the Andromeda, a celebrated exploratory vessel assigned to patrol the furthest quadrants of Alliance space and beyond into unknown territory. The ship is classified as a midsized vessel with ten-thousand personnel members aboard representing much of Alliance space. Dick is among the stars again, waking up and seeing them out the windows of the ship.

An alert tone sounded in his ear, shaking Dick from his thoughts. The message brings a thoughtful frown to his lip. He opens a visual frequency and transfers it to the main navigation screen.

“Captain, we’ve received a priority missive regarding a narrow-burst transmission from an unknown quadrant of space.”

Captain Gordon swivels the command chair as the coordinates appear. The captain is a respectable man with a calm, precise manner that infused everything around him, from the disciplined crew to the perfectly trimmed hairs of white mustache. Dick admires both the man and his command style.

“Did they advise the reason for the urgent status?”

“Yes, captain,” Dick replies. “The band is unknown in origin, but it resembles the pattern of a Galadorian distress signal.”

The captain tugs at the edge of his mustache. “Navigation, what do we know about this quadrant?”

“This quadrant is 24 galactic units away. An initial sweep of that quadrant has shown a no life signs,” the navigation officer replies. “All points of space within 100 GUs of the distress call has been classified as devoid of life.”

Commander Montoya’s warm voice joins the discussion. “Captain, this quadrant has been flagged as part of a series of training missions for three divisions for that very purpose.”

“How fortuitous,” Gordon replies. “Assign the next command officer to this, Montoya. Classify as search and rescue.”

“Yessir.”

“Lt. Grayson.”

Dick turns to find Commander Montoya ascending the few steps to the relay station. “Yes, commander?”

She offers him a small grin. “It looks like being promoted to lieutenant shifted you up on the roster. Congratulations, you’re the next officer in line for an outgoing command mission.”

Dick tries every meditative and focus trick he’s learned over the years to keep the excitement from his voice. “Yes, commander. Thank you.”

“You are hereby relieved of duty to begin preparation for your assignment.” Montoya salutes him, and Dick returns it, a grin fighting its way free. She gives winks before turning back toward the command center.

After closing down his connection to the relay station, Dick exits the bridge. He manages to hold his excitement in until he reaches the elevator, which is empty, thankfully. The second the doors close, Dick punches the air in triumph. He made it onto the command rotation for leading jump missions only two weeks after his promotion. He knew it was going to be a good day.

In his cabin, Dick pulls all existing information regarding that quadrant of space and search and rescue protocols. Even if it turns out to be a floating transmission or an echo, a common occurrence for transmissions of this kind, he’s determined to execute the mission perfectly. His recommendations from the Victory, his previous post, spoke highly on his ability to maintain mission parameters, and he’s eager to prove it here.

The evening meal comes and goes before Dick looks up from a passage on Galadorian’s current form of space travel. As a culture, the Galadorians are one of the oldest known civilizations in the Cosmic Alliance, and their technology has transcended much of what is currently used, a fact that they acknowledge and closely guard. The Galadorians have been able to manipulate light for generations now and with that knowledge, have developed complex teleportation points within their territories. With that knowledge in mind, Dick finds the possible distress call Galadorian or even close to Galadorian in origin highly unlikely. The Andromeda is on the fringe of Alliance space while the Galadorians are galaxies away, near the Alliance core.

Sighing, Dick closes the information pane and rubs his eyes. “ORACLE, lights out.”

The lighting and screens winked out, leaving Dick illuminated in the faintest glow shining from beneath his own skin. In the years since his parent’s death, Dick has tried to understand this small hint of his heritage. At best, he can contain the light within him, but there are times when he’s near overwhelmed with feeling that the light breaks free. He wiggles his fingers, watching as the glow bobs and weaves like Culderat Moonflies.

The best thing to settle his excitement and his glow is physical activity.

Dick grabs his jacket and heads for the door. There’s only one other place he’d rather be.

As Dick walks along the empty bridge, he can’t help but remember how important being assigned a mission this early is for him. It’s not just a long-awaited return to space. It's his first chance to prove to the Alliance that he’s capable of being a captain and leading his own missions. After two years, he’s finally beyond the Academy’s reach and the record smashing and high scores to gain notoriety and having people write “leadership material” on him when he passed out after a night of celebrating his accomplishments.

This was real, and Dick could feel the weight of it on his shoulders. Being a commanding officer on a ship was something huge and while Dick knew he could handle it, he couldn’t help the nervous feelings that settled in his gut. There were actual lives on the ship depending on Dick’s decisions.

Dick steps into the command center, glad to see it was still empty during the evening break. He climbs into the captain’s chair, looking through the thick glass that showed him the floor of the bay where the jump ship was being prepared for launch. All the bodies milling around in CA uniforms. He wonders which ones would end up on this ship, which ones would become his friends or rivals. How many of them would respect the position he held, displayed by the very shirt on his back. That’s an important aspect of this mission. Dick doesn’t just want to lead a team there and back again. He wants to build a crew that he can trust and trusts him in return. Bruce once told him it’s a measure of greatness, and while many of the other things he'd thought were true didn’t apply to him, this one he believes in.

“Lt. Grayson,” the voice startles Dick and he jumps out of the chair, standing at attention, hands tight at his back and head held high. “At ease, Grayson,” Gordon says as he pats Dick on the back, and Dick relaxes. “I was on my way to speak with you and see how you are preparing for your command, but it looks like you’re already comfortable with this ship at least.”

“She is beautiful, Sir,” Dick says with a smile, watching as Gordon steps behind the captain’s chair and pats the back of it.

“Taking my chair for a spin?” Gordon says and Dick shrugs, a small smile on his face.

“I thought I was alone, Sir, had I known you were here, I wouldn’t have done anything.”

Gordon waves a hand at him. “If I told you I didn’t do the same thing when I was in your position, I’d be lying. It feels nice to sit in the chair and dream.”

Dick nods, but he doesn’t just want to dream, he’d been on the Command track at Academy with the end goal of being a captain one day.

“Now,” Captain Gordon says. “I think it’s time you get ready for your mission briefing,” Gordon tells him. “It’s a big deal to be the mission leader when you’re fresh out of the Academy, but it means they see a lot in you.” Gordon puts a heavy hand on his shoulder and squeezes. “Go prove us all right.”


	2. Chapter 2

 

The Tactical Operations Staff Commander pulls Jason from a seminar on security overrides to tell him the news. Jason stands at attention in the hallway struggling to keep his face blank as another career milestone finally arrives.

“Second Lt. Todd, you will command the tactical operations for a ten-day search and rescue mission. As second lieutenant, you will also assume duties regulated to second-in-command. The mission overview will be accessible from a secure station in Central Command.”

Jason nods sharply. “Yessir.”

“You will report to Deck 3, MLD-4 at UST 0240 for your mission briefing. Second Lt. Grayson will be leading the expedition.” The security commander turns to face Jason, dark eyes steady. “For that very reason all eyes will be on this one, Todd, although I shouldn’t have to tell you that.”

“No sir.” Jason squeezes the fists tucked at the small of his back. The commander doesn’t have to tell him anything when it comes to the CA’s Golden Boy.

At the Academy, Grayson’s collected accolades like the Curolnia Belt farmers collect rain. There hadn’t been a week in training when Grayson hadn’t appeared on some leader board smashing unprecedented records or some message board debating his relationship status. And there hadn’t been a single day when his name wasn’t whispered in reference, frustration, or wonder by members of every class Jason had sat through. As a Gotham Colony native, Jason was already used to this.

Jason was a registrant of the Gotham Colony, a Level 5, the lowest of the low. On Level 5 you were assigned one purpose in life: elevating the lives of those above you. And like every registrant, he grew up knowing the name Richard Grayson and its connection to Bruce Wayne. They appeared everywhere and with a frequeny that seemed asinine when looking backwards through time. Joining the Academy was supposed to be an escape from the oppressive elements of life on the colony, including that the daily, visible notoriety of the its ruling class. The kind that appeared on the rotating columns advertising Wayne Tech at Gotham colony’s center, the spaceport, and even the communal hygiene stations.

The security commander’s face flattens into a less foreboding expression. “Once you have selected your team, notify the quartermaster. You are dismissed.”

Jason salutes, clicking his heels, and spins away. He’s got a mission team to select, a security plan to implement, and a couple friends to notify.

The Andromeda’s tactical and security forces occupy a space on the lower dorsal decks far away from the ship’s first four decks that comprise Central Command. Central feels like an entirely different place when compared to the other decks. It reminds Jason of the Academy in some respects, gleaming edges and bright halo screens streaming data down in thick, complex lines. Jason steps into a secure terminal and reviews the mission brief. Then he begins searching for members to comprise his tactical team. He looks for his friends first, but many, like Rayner and Caul, are assigned to other missions. Brown is available though. He grins, adding the name to his short list.

After another look through the roster, Jason narrows down to the most reliable crewmen he’s worked with on previous missions.

“Ensigns B’Dep and Brown, you have been activated for a shuttle mission. Report to MLD-3 at UST 0240 for your mission briefing,” Jason says into the holocorder sternly, hopefully command worthy. “Second Lt. Todd, TACOPS 4172864AJK109-3321.”

Using his activation code makes him feel slightly dizzy with pride. He clutches the table’s smooth edge willing the smile burning within to stay buried. He just has to make it to the out of deck and he can celebrate in the privacy of his quarters.

Jason has waited two whole years to be receive mission command, to hear those words, to know that the pretty speeches that drove him to join the fleet weren’t lies.

Next, Jason pulls down the details provided by the commander and then reviews the space sector their small crew will be traveling. The Andromeda is a deep space cruiser, a ship of exploration, of knowledge, of discovery, which means there is little in the way of information regarding 281B-74117. A blue star sits in the center of a small system of planets and asteroids, uninhabited by sentient beings—or so the readings stated. But the communications division has located a signal. Somewhere in this uninhabited pocket of space, a message is beaming through the emptiness, weak but true.

It’s their duty to find the source.

 

* * *

 

Before deciding on the security tract, before joining the Cosmic Alliance fleet, before choosing between running as a far-grounder with a Gotham syndicate and being rescued by a CA officer that sent him on a new course to blaze a path amongst the stars, Jason had learned the value of being the first. Being first means having the better position, creating the advantage to strike. He gathers his tablet, slicks back the curl of his hair, and steps out of his cabin determined to be the first to arrive to the day’s meeting.

Walking the ship’s corridors always fills Jason with pride, but today he stands taller purpose ringing with every footfall. He rides the elevator to the mid-level briefing rooms wondering if his squadron has seen the assignments. There’s always something riding on mission assignments, credits, reputation, a night in someone else’s quarters, and Jason’s going to be the one to collect on his return.

He reaches the silvered entrance to the meeting room and provides his clearance codes. The door slides open and Jason sweeps inside eager to find the best seat at the square halo-table when he stumbles to a halt.

Sitting at the table is Second Lieutenant Grayson. Of course he is. Jason takes a moment to take in what he’s sure is a rare occurrence—Richard Grayson caught off-guard. His star-lit eyes are wide with it, but he recovers a shade after Jason himself, offering him a curt nod.

“Second Lieutenant,” Jason says, returning the nod before rounding the table. A sinking feeling settles into his gut after sweeping the room. Grayson has strategically placed himself to be the first thing seen when the door opens, back to observation window, directly across from where the officers will be seated. Outmaneuvered already.

“It’s Lieutenant, actually,” Grayson says.

The comment, as polite and brief as it is, rankles. Jason resists the urge to snap something back at Grayson, who has turned back to his datapad as if Jason weren’t even there. It looks like someone had advanced quickly since graduation. Faster than Jason.

With his first choice removed, Jason opts to take the seat to Grayson’s left. He drops into it grunt and lets his things clatter on the smooth surface. Grayson doesn’t so much as blink. It’s not as if Jason sets out to studiously ignore and seethe at his soon-to-be commanding officer for the next twenty minutes, but he does. He reviews the away team’s composition, their navigation path, and then reviews the suggested security protocols for engagement. He does not listen to the soft inhales and the gentle press of fingers against the hepatic-polyglass.

Having pursued a separate career track and falling into separate social circles, Jason’s never been this close to the Wayne Tech wonder kid before. Grayson seems to hold himself in the same distanced, aloof manner command paths did, like they’re focused on moving onward and upwards instead of the people around them. Typical Level One bullshit. Jason had anticipated that arrogance; however, he didn’t expect Grayson to look exactly like his Wayne Tech holograms right down to the slight dimple in his left cheek. He’d been a cute kid then who had definitely grown into his looks. Objectively speaking, Grayson is beautiful, unnaturally so. It’s the only way to account for the way Jason can barely keep his eyes away from his commanding officer. Or maybe it’s that latent awe instilled in him from birth.

Slowly, the room fills. Jason nods at Brown and B’dep, who take seats near him. Brown offers him a quick smile, which momentarily lifts his spirits. An excited flush colors B’dep’s purple skin. Surprisingly, or perhaps unsurprisingly, Captain Gordon enters. A lot of eyes on this one. Jason’s commander had warned him of the scrutiny they’d be under, but he hadn’t thought this mission warranted the captain attending the briefing. Another stone of truth in the rumors surrounding Grayson then. While the rest of the newly graduated cadets work to secure their place, Grayson is being fast-tracked through the command chain and it had nothing to do with scores or skills or aptitude.

A small chime announced the meeting start. The Lt. Commander opens the briefing by announcing the crew members present.

“Lieutenant Grayson, if you will begin the mission briefing,” she says with a gentle smile granting him another privilege few would ever receive.

“Thank you, sir.” Grayson stands. Sector 281B-74117 renders above the holo table. Stars flicker gently in the distance dwarfed by the neutron star in the sector’s lone solar system. The gaseous dust cloud wavers just beyond the asteroid belt and the twin moons of the system’s largest planet. “The communication’s team isolated a tight data burst originating from 281B-74117. The pattern indicates a signal,” he begins, drawing the entire room in with his cool tone, even Jason, especially Jason, who found himself leaning forward in his seat, entranced like he was twelve all over again.

It was because Grayson was the fucking Golden Boy of Wayne Tech in a world where Wayne and Wayne Tech mean everything. Sometimes he wonders if, considering the reach of the company’s technologies across the vast reaches of space, every sentient being within the Alliance is connected to Wayne. Maybe there really is no escape.

Jason forces away a bitter sneer. He’d blasted off that rock years ago. He’s a member of the Cosmic Alliance, an equal in the eyes of billions of planets united for peace and exploration. He’s Grayson’s equal. Just because Grayson gets his boots shined by the captain himself doesn’t mean he’s any better than the other crewmen on board.

Jason’s just going to have to prove it to him.

 

* * *

 

The meeting concludes with a few sage words from the Mission Commander. She and Captain Gordon stand, and Dick and the other officers rise to salute them. Once the door closes, Dick allows himself a slow exhale. The first hurdle is out the way, one of many before its successful end. Including the one he’s about to create. Dick steels himself before calling out.

“Second Lt. Todd? Can I speak to you for a moment?”

Todd turns his head, a look of surprise spilling over his features before settling into something cool, expectant. “Of course, lieutenant.” He crosses around the table. “How can I help you?”

Dick tilts his head back. They’re of similar heights, but Todd is taller and broader, and his long bulk gives the appearance of looming over Dick. He presses that out of his mind. “As second lieutenant, you would typically act as second-in-command for this mission.”

Todd’s black brow rises slowly. “Typically,” he says slowly as if tasting the word and finding it lacking.

“Yes. However, I have requested Lt. Tai join the crew as an expert on interstellar communication and contact. Lt. Tai will assume duties as second-in-command.”

“Contact?”

“Our mission will put us just outside of the Alliance space. If the ship we encounter is not affiliated with or previously met an Alliance vessel, we will need a sanctioned contact expert to log the encounter.”

Todd stares at him in silence tension lining his jaw. Finally, he huffs a bitter laugh. “Oh, I see what’s this is about, _sol-one_. Bring your friends on the ride up, huh?”

“Excuse me?” Dick thinks he recognizes the phrase for a moment, but no translation comes to mind. Still, it sounds familiar and the way Todd said it, _sole-ohneh_ , with a sneer in his voice leaves not misunderstanding. It’s an insult.

“Forget it, lieutenant. You’ll get no complaints from me. If you excuse me.” Todd spins on his heel and stalks towards the exit, mood heavy around him like a storm cloud.

Internally, Dick wars between the knowledge that he’s made the right decision and the need to smooth things over with his crew before they set out. He lets Todd go in the end. It certainly could have gone better, but it’s done now. No changing it.

The exchange is still on his mind later that evening when he’s returned to his quarters, data screens spread open with information regarding everything from the quadrant’s history, the jump ship status, as well as his daily reports. Dick drops his chopsticks into his meal with a grunt. He’s curious now.

“ORACLE, can you pull the service records for the members of my upcoming command mission? Start with Second Lt. Jason Todd. The rest I’d like ordered by length of service.”

A fifth window unfolds in front of him. Jason Peter Todd, Second Lieutenant. Dick takes in the pertinent information, frowning when he sees Jason’s graduation date.

“We were at the academy together? We graduated together?” Dick searches his memory for any interaction, but the face is unfamiliar to him. Well, it’s not like he knew everyone at the Academy. Just most.

Further reading provides more context. Jason is two years younger than Dick but graduated with him after an extensive course load. The guy didn’t take a single break offered within the calendar year. He also joined the school five months into Dick’s first year under the recommendation of—Dick’s eyes widened—Admiral Queen.

And Jason Todd hails from Gotham Colony. He’s surprised to find that most of Jason’s records prior to joining the Academy are sealed. The important information is there though. Jason is a registrant of Level 5, the lowest rung on Gotham’s every struggling ladder.

Well that explains it.

 _Sol-one_. Dick remembers the phrase now. It’s derogatory slang launched at colonists who live on Level 1.

Dick slumps into his seat with a groan. He just made an enemy. Hopefully, he’ll find a way to smooth the situation over during their trip.


	3. Chapter 3

  


Jump ships receive their name from their configuration for quick, successive and prolonged travel through jump space. Compared to the Andromeda, the jump ship is much smaller vessel, with three decks and quarters for up to twenty-member teams. They're primarily used for exploratory expeditions. It’s similar in size to the freighters Haly’s traveling circus used during their interstellar run. The tight quarters allow Dick to be in constant contact with the crew while they travel and that’s familiar, good. It’s close to what he’s been searching for since joining the CA.

The jump ship will bring them to the sector where the signal originated in a few short days. Dick spends that time getting to know the crew members. All but Lt. Tai are somewhat new to the Andromeda having terms of service just shy of two years. But their records show promise, and Dick sees this mission is more than a chance to assess his command ability.

On the night they are to arrive at the sector, Dick goes to the bridge and he smiles at his crew.

“Congratulations everyone. So far, everything is going well, and I will be so happy to report our success with the captain when we return to the Andromeda. I selected you all for a reason, and it was because I knew we were all working towards the same goal: Discovering new places, saving lives, and supporting each other in the process. I hope when we get back to the Andromeda, we can all know that we’ll have crew members we can always rely on after our time together on this ship. Now let’s get some rest and tomorrow, we’ll see if we can find that signal.”

The crew applauds, smiles on their faces, and it fills Dick’s chest with warmth to know that he’s done something right on this ship. Captain Gordon will be proud of him, and he can rest easy tonight knowing he’s done a good job. Then he sees Lt. Todd, arms crossed and an unimpressed frown on his face. BTGR Brown says something to him and he rolls his eyes. They meet Dick’s for a moment, and Jason’s frown grows into a full on sneer.

Dick takes a deep breath and does his best to brush it off. “If anyone would like to join me, I’m going to the mess to enjoy a warm meal.” A few crew members join him, smiling as they make their way to the elevators leading to the mess hall, but Jason stays behind.

Soon, arrive in Sector 281B-74117. The shine of speeding light fades as they exit jump space into the velvet dark of space. Dick sits at the helm and issues his first orders of their mission.

It’s going to be excellent.

 

* * *

 

Dick wakes up every morning and leaves his quarters knowing that all eyes are going to be on him. He starts the day in the fitness center, keeping his physique above CA regulations for peak physical health. It’s another reminder of his life in the circus, spending hours every day training his body so it could perform unbelievable acts with ease. It’s what he’ll have to do if he wants to keep going up the ranks.

As Dick goes through his stretches, he prepares mentally for his day, figuring out what needs to be done or who needs to be spoken to. Dick has already spent the first leg of the trip creating a good rapport with the crew. It’s a calculated way to establish himself and to make friends. It never hurts to have good connections that will highlight Dick’s leadership if superior officers ever ask about him. Of course, it’s not the only reason. Being a strong leader and even a friend to this crew will help them all.

Then there’s the fractional part of the crew that hates him, and by fractional, Dick means one specific member of the crew: Second Lieutenant Jason Todd. Like every other member of his crew, Dick had read his file and learned about the man and been surprised to see that Jason had dominated the leaderboards in many of his subjects at the academy. Dick had been too busy putting his own name at the top of the leaderboards that he hadn’t noticed the other Gothamite there.

That explained Jason’s attitude towards him at first, but it still doesn’t explain it now. Dick could offer a theory based on past interactions with stubborn crewmen. Jason, like many others, likely thought Dick hadn’t earned his place as the leader of the mission and probably bristled since Dick was being placed above him again. Appointing another crewmen into the second-in-command position probably didn’t help this matter. Dick should have been able to solve all of it with drinks and a conversation, but Jason had ignored any invitations from Dick to break down the wall between them.

The two of them are supposed to investigate the signal in sector 281B-74117 together, but so far, they’ve barely exchanged two words. Dick knows it’s something petty that he can’t even begin to understand, but it’s started to affect him. He should be feeling the eyes of his own commanders on him and be working to impress them, but the burn of Jason’s bright eyes is always the heaviest on his shoulders.

He almost snaps one night on the deck when he notices a slight change in their navigation plan.

“What is this?” he asks the members of the deck as he brings up the navigation path on one of the screens in the room. “We’re on an incredibly tight schedule, a small change to the navigation path can hinder our progress and plans. Who made these changes?”

“It actually saves time, Sir,” one of the navigator ensigns comments.

That much is obvious. The updated course pulls the jump ship outside the previous path by a single GU removing the solar radiation bands from their way. Saving time isn't the issue though.

“I don’t care if it saves time,” Dick says. “Who approved this? Did I or did I not say that you all need to run everything by me?”

“Everything,” Lt. Todd asks, eyebrow raised and voice a low drawl. “So do I need to start running my schedule by you now?”

Dick takes his time exhaling. Leave it to Lt. Todd to take what Dick is saying and manipulate it so Dick looks incompetent in front of his crew. “If it’s a relevant change to the mission plan, then yes,” Dick said.

“Alright then,” Todd says. “Lt. Grayson, since it takes away from my time on the bridge, I request permission to take an extra bowel movement.”

Dick is poised to reply when the ensign steps forward, cheeks red. “I’m sorry about the change, sir,” she says as she hands Dick a data pad. “I was told that I didn’t need to communicate so small a course correction to you.”

“Who told you that?” Dick asks.

“Lt. Todd, Sir.”

Dick shouldn’t be surprised, but his eyes snap up to Jason who shrugs. “It is a tactical decision, sir, and as it does not interfere with the current mission parameters, I considered it a safe to make, but if you have a problem with it, I can ask _you_ before I make any more tactical decisions, Sir.”

Dick can feel the rage burning underneath his skin and he shakes his head at Todd. “No that’s not what I meant. I mean that anything pertaining to the mission should at least be run by me so I’m aware of the situation. I don’t have to approve it, but I want to know what it is. It doesn’t help any of us if I come in here unaware of what’s going on. It puts us all in danger and as the Tactical Officer, you should know better than to jeopardize that, Lt. Todd.”

“Apologies _Commander_ ,” Jason replies. “Maybe you should use that pretty little head of yours and reconsider how you phrase things, so your crew won’t think they have to tell you literally everything only for you to turn it around moments later.”

Dick has to take another deep breath so when he looks at Todd, none of the rage shows on his face, only a mask a calm. He can feel the anticipation in his muscles begging him to go to the fitness center, so he can get out all the angry energy. Instead, he smiles.

“Thank you for the criticism, Second Lt. Todd. How about this? Because you approved the change in the navigation plan, you provide me with your justification. Write up the reasons why you made the decision and what effect it will have on the mission, so I can wrap my _pretty little head_ around why you think it’s alright to undermine your mission leader. And because you asked for it, your request for an extra bowel movement has been granted. I’ll talk to someone in the galley to make sure you get additional fiber with your meals.”

With that, Dick leaves the deck, waiting until the door has slid shut behind him before he leans his back against the wall and puts his head in his hands. He’s dealt with people doubting him and treating him like some dumb pretty boy since he was nine, younger even. Jason shouldn’t be bothering him so much, but he was, and Dick couldn’t stand it. Both he and Jason were better than these petty arguments on deck, but here they were, fighting almost daily in front of their whole crew like a bunch of children. It puts both of their reputations at risk.

In the days after the incident on deck, Dick receives constant updates from Jason regarding the tactical operations decisions on deck. Every minute detail is recorded to the second and Jason lays out definitions of what he’s doing, reasons why they need to be performed, procedure, and results. All the updates would be excellent as training materials or examples on how to write a thorough report in the academy, but for Dick, it’s just tiring. He has to read and sign off on everything Jason sends him, making comments on what he thinks. It eats into the little free time he has on the ship and he wonders how it is Jason has time to write it all up.

Dick knows the basics of TacOps. Analyzing solar rays and how they could interfere with a ship’s signals source is something that takes anywhere from ten minutes to two hours. But something like deploying outrider sensors around the ship to ensure said rays wouldn’t impact their ability to detect surrounding signals or locate the source of the distress signal is time consuming. As Dick reads over the report, Jason’s logic—outlined in excruciating technical detail—is sound and Dick admits he wishes he’d thought of it. He wonders why Jason couldn’t just simplify the report. He’s shown that he’s capable of putting technical details into simpler terms, like in his frequent system check reports, but going into the chemistry of the alloy that coats the sensors is overkill.

What’s even worse is that Jason seems to know the worst times to send the reports. The amount of times Dick has been curling up in his bed about to go to sleep or about to sit down and eat only to be stopped by a chime from his datapad is more than just coincidence at this point. Dick is required to respond to the updates within a certain amount of time based on urgency, forcing Dick to stay up late or skip meals depending on what Jason has sent him. The amount of times he wants to snap at Jason and demand the respect he deserves are starting to outweigh the need to befriend him.

Dick keeps an eye on Jason during his time on the bridge and Jason doesn’t seem too distracted as he does his duties. Dick doesn’t see him dictate or type anything into his datapad. It’s irksome, having to watch Jason and then read his reports while maintaining his own duties with the rest of the crew. Dick’s stomach growls and he gets out of his chair.

“I’m going to go to the mess to get some food,” he says. “Lt. Tai, keep an eye on the bridge in my absence.” Dick grabs his datapad and looks around the bridge one last time before making his way to the exit. His eyes meet Lt. Todd’s and right as he looks away, he hears a ding indicating he’s received another report.

With a huff, he spins on his heel, and comes to a halt before the TacOps display.

“Is everything alright Lt. Grayson?” Jason asks.

“No, actually, it isn’t,” Dick says. “Lt. Todd, when are you finding the time to write all these reports? I understand the importance of making sure you keep your superiors updated on what you’re doing, but I’m starting to worry that these updates of yours are keeping you away from the duty you have to keep this ship safe.”

“Are you questioning the quality of my reports or my ability to do my job, sir?” Jason sounds bored, but there’s a thread of heat in his eyes as he stares Dick down.

“Both,” Dick says, calmly and watches that heat explode with the fury of a supernova. For a heart shuddering moment, he wishes he could see that passion ignite under different circumstances.

“If you’re weighing my abilities against your own, don’t. Some of us have worked very hard to attain the skills necessary to meet impossible standards. Not that I expect you to remember.”

“And what is that, Second Lt.?”

“That in the real world, handouts are few and far between. It’s an easy thing to forget after being boosted up the ladder. Sir.”

The terse comment sends Dick’s anger soaring.

“Well, let’s see how all this multitasking has weighed in on the quality of your reports." Dick looks down at the pad and opens the report, skimming over the contents. “According to what you just sent me, you made some changes to your burst array system check, but I don’t understand a few things. First, the timestamp seems to indicate you did so while I was on the bridge, would it not have been more convenient to update me in person so you and I both wouldn’t have to waste time on this?

“You also claim that the specter method is better than the split beam, but in the last report you sent me, you went on and on about how the split beam was a superior burst array format when using weytham alloy coated sensors. I’m not signing off on this. I’m going to go take a break after working the bridge for an entire cycle and debate if I should put your continued time allocation issues into a disciplinary report and then when I come back, you and I can discuss your decision in person.

“And finally, I will take your observation and consider it. Someone with a recommendation letter from a CA _Admiral would_ know about being boosted.”

Jason’s jaw is tight and his bright eyes are narrowed. If Jason had been angry before, he’s positively furious now.

“Of course, Commander.” The words are stilted and Dick forces himself to turn away from them, tucking his datapad under his arm. He steps out into the hallway and lets out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

Right as the door slides closed, Dick hears the telltale ding of another report.

 

* * *

 

Dick returns to the bridge a few hours later after reading Jason’s write up of different alloys and how they interact with solar energy and can cause issues with cores of the ships. Jason also attaches studies by a few other Alliance affiliates that Dick must review before he can continue reading the report again. It all leaves him with a headache that only grows when Jason pulls him aside to the presentation room next to the bridge to discuss everything that had happened earlier. Or so Dick had thought.

He sits down in one of the chairs, expecting Jason to sit down across from him, but Jason stays at the front of the room and pulls up a presentation.

“You asked me about some of the differences between the specter and split beam burst array methods, so I thought I’d put something together to explain it to you in a form easier for you to digest.” Jason’s tone is light, but in a way that Dick knows is supposed to be mocking. “We’ll start with a brief history of the burst array and then move into the different dispersal records.”

“Stop,” Dick holds up a hand. “What is it you’re trying to do here, Lt. Todd?”

“You questioned my decision so I’m trying to explain it to you,” Jason says. “Is that not what you wanted?”

“No,” Dick stands. “It isn’t. Not when I’ve spent the past four cycles reading your reports in my spare time, doing double shifts on the bridge, and especially not after I just wrote a disciplinary report on your poor utilization of time only to come back and find you’re wasting it again.”

“I’m doing what you told me to do. Or are you so far removed you don’t remember what it’s like to go above and beyond to give your superior officer what they ask for,” Jason says, a sneer in his voice. “And I don't get your obsession with what I can do with my time. I can do my daily duties and write up strategy reports. It's not Atlantean Sorcery, just part of my function on this ship. Just because you can't do it doesn't mean no one can.”

“No, you’re going out of your way to be a pain in my ass because you’re a Level 5 that can’t stand being under a Level 1 any more than you have to.”

Jason’s jaw clenches and his eyes narrow. “You think that’s what this is about?”

“I do actually,” Dick says. “And you know what, this behavior isn’t going to help either of us. We’re in this together, Lieutenant, and if you think that undermining me is going to help either of us, you’re wrong. It’s going to put our lives at risk and keep both of us from the positions we want. Now as soon as we step out of this room, I can write up another disciplinary report on your behavior today, or we can go on the bridge and start acting like a team because that’s what differentiates a crew that functions from a crew that thrives.”

“Did you learn that on the Victory?” Jason asks, in a biting tone. It causes Dick to pause. He wonders when Jason looked at his service record and why. A question for another time.

“No,” Dick says. “I learned that on the vessel where I grew up. A crew can be a family, or they can be people that are obligated to work together. I didn’t join the Cosmic Alliance for this, and I have a feeling you didn’t either. Dismissed.”

 

* * *

 

A few days later, Dick runs himself through a series of stretches on the mats before his shift is set to begin. The routine is all muscle memory for him now, allowing him to zone out as he puts his body through the familiar movements that bring him back to his childhood. Things had been so much easier when he’d been travelling with the circus. Space was his to explore with his extended family seeing distant planets and galaxies that he’d been forced to dream about on Gotham. He’d longed to be back in space again from the moment he’d left it, but he never imagined people would be out for him like this.

Dick changes into his uniform and goes over their navigation path for the day while he eats a quick breakfast. Everything is sound and on schedule. He goes up to the flight deck, greeted by his crew, a few of them, Lt. Todd included, hard at work for the day. It’s a relief to come onto the deck and not have to deal with any of Todd’s biting comments. Dick thinks it’s a good change of pace when Lt. Todd straightens and clears his throat.

“Commander,” he starts, again using his condescending nickname for Dick. No matter how many times Dick had scolded him and insisted Jason not use the title on him, Jason had scoffed and told him that it should have been considered an honor. “I was looking through today’s coordinates and I thought there was an issue that needed your attention.”

Dick holds back a sigh. “Bring it up on the main screen.”

“Sir?”

“If it’s important enough for my attention, then by all means, Todd, bring it up on the main screen.”

There’s a flicker on Jason’s face, and Dick holds back his grin. Jason probably expected Dick to request the report be sent to him as had become customary. Hopefully, displaying the pointless addendums Jason provided to the routine would finally get through to him.

“I’m waiting,” Dick says. A second later the viewscreen flickers.

It is not a report.

In the middle of the bridge, a hologram of Dick from the Gotham colony appears, in it he’s smiling bright and his hair and outfit are perfect. His cheeks are cherubic with youth. It’s a few years old, but it’s probably still broadcast in parts of the lower levels.

Good citizens of the Gotham Colony can be anything they dream of if they look to the stars. I came from nothing but look at where I am now.

Dick’s face goes red as he stares at one of the many PSAs he’d recorded with Wayne Tech on the Gotham Colony when he’d lived there. Dick had been turned into the face of Gotham, a paragon of how someone can start from nothing and work their way up to the top. Bruce had thought it a brilliant idea, using Dick to promote his educational initiatives within the colony’s lower levels, but the Level Ones of Gotham wanted Dick to instill hope in the younger members of the lower levels of the colony to keep them compliant. He’d hated what Gotham had done to his image, using him as some kind of false beacon of hope, taking his personality away from him and turning him into what they wanted him to be. The Dick Grayson that Gotham Colony had created wasn’t the Dick Grayson he wanted to be. It’s why he joined the academy.

There are a few quiet giggles around the room but most of the crew members are staring back and forth between Dick and Jason. Dick turns off the main screen with shaking hands.

“Anderson, please make sure this message is taken out of the coordinates. You are in control of the flight deck until I return.”

“Yes, Lt. Grayson,” the navigator says as she turns back to the nav controls, staring at the screen like it’ll save her life while the rest of the crew stares at him.

Dick turns to Todd who’s standing at his station. His smirk speaks volumes and Dick wants to punch it off his face. “Lt. Todd, come with me.”

Dick doesn’t wait for Jason to follow before he turns around. He wants to scream at him, push him against the wall, whatever it takes to get Jason to stop undermining him. It’s almost as if he knows what’s riding on this mission for Dick but he doesn’t care. Dick wants to know what he did to deserve all this. It’s a question that’s been burning at him since the moment he and Todd sat next to each other in the mission briefing, Todd ignoring him like he was a worker drone on Gotham while they waited for the meeting to start.

When the door to the presentation room slides shut behind them and Dick stops, Jason chuckles. “This would be a lot more impressive if you had a command office.”

Dick feels the anger rise again and he turns to Jason, poised to put all of it into the words he’s going to say next. But when he turns around and looks at Jason, who’s staring down at him- making every inch between them feel like a mile—amused smile on that stupidly handsome face of his; he deflates, face falling and anger fading. All that’s left is the pain of not understanding why, no matter how hard he’s tried to make sure everyone on this ship likes him—or hell, they don’t even have to like him, he just wants people to respect him—Jason doesn’t.

“Is that why you hate me?” The words sound weak and broken but Dick doesn’t care. Jason’s caustic attitude has been wearing on him from day one and he’s tired of pretending it doesn’t hurt.

The smirk melts off Jason’s face, leaving behind a blank look of surprise. Dick wouldn’t know what it looked like if he hadn’t seen it when Jason walked into the mission briefing on the first day and he caught that look on Jason’s face before he patched it over with indifference. Jason does the same thing now, but it takes just a few seconds longer.

“Is that all you wanted to say to me?”

It’s the last thing he wanted to hear Jason say and Dick can only stare as he feels the glow around him fade, the warmth of it giving way to the cold on the deck and the coolness between them. After everything that’s happened Jason doesn’t even respect him enough to give him a response to the question. Dick feels like something inside him is breaking as he straightens and forces his face back into a mask of calm.

“Yes. Dismissed.”

Jason turns around and goes back onto the bridge and Dick waits for the door to shut before he allows his shoulders to drop and the calm expression to leave his face. He can feel the familiar sting of tears pricking at his eyes, but he doesn’t let them fall until he’s back in his quarters and under the warm spray of his shower for the second time that day. He looks at himself in the mirror when he’s done, his eyes are red, and the ethereal glow of his skin has faded ever so slightly. He wonders if he’ll survive this mission and still want to be a captain when it’s done or if Jason will strip away his passion, and his glow, completely.


	4. Chapter 4

 

 

Jason isn’t surprised to find Stephanie waiting outside the door. Her expression is purposefully blank, but he can feel the anger rising from her.

“I suppose you’re wanting a few words,” he murmurs, pausing while she falls in step.

“Obviously, but unlike you, I know better to air my issues on the bridge,” she replies.

The lift doors close behind them, sealing away the frustration and confusion saturating the air. Jason takes a deep breath before turning to his friend. He’s known Brown since the Academy, one of the few TacOps specialists he ever got along with. They’ve managed to stick together since, enjoying a year long stint working within the CA’s supply chain through the central galaxy before being reassigned to the Andromeda. They’re friends, they know each other, and neither are afraid to say what’s on their mind. Judging by pink flush spreading over Stephanie’s nose, she’s got a lot to say.

“Go ahead, Brown.”

“What the hell was that, Todd? Besides a front row seat to career suicide.”

Jason bristles. “He acts like he’s better than all of us because he’s leading a mission!”

“He’s our commanding officer on this mission and you went out of your way to humiliate him.”

Jason snaps his mouth shut so fast his teeth click.

“I don’t know what grudge you’re nursing, Todd, but Grayson is obviously not the same person he was in that hologram. And you’re not acting like the Jason Todd I know. He doesn’t act like this. He doesn’t treat people like this. And neither do you.” She shoves his shoulder hard. “Get it together.”

Brown strides down the corridor, shoulders set angrily, and Jason watches her go, wondering if it’s too late.

 

* * *

 

Whatever easy rapport established between the crew lies in ruins. Jason knows the blame can rest solely at his feet. He takes it and the worried glances in stride, but as the tension mounts and Grayson remains stoically mute in the command chair, Jason considers the possibility that he went too far.

Push too hard. Talk too much. It’s what he does. Run faster, fight dirtier, think smarter than the people in his field of few. It’s not about being the best. It’s about survival, it’s about graduating from useful to indispensable. It’s about an elevator standing in the center of a colony and knowing that at Level 5, you’ll never set foot on Level 3 even when you know you’re worthy. Jason is worthy.

Grayson needed to be reminded that his crew, the people he’s going to be stepping on all the way to a station command, are every bit as capable and necessary as he is. He’d wanted to remind Grayson of that and maybe himself.

Pulling the old holovid of Grayson had been easy. Playing the holovid had changed everything. Jason felt himself transported to his first year of school. He remembered the way his stupid heart had lifted when he’d seen that kid standing in front of the gates of Level 1 smiling. The most beautiful thing he’d ever seen. At the same time, remembering his own childhood dreams of waking up with a life as golden as that lucky kid Richard Grayson made him feel sick. He’d looked to Grayson instead to see his reaction and received another twist.

Grayson’s expression had been unreal. It had been shaded by genuine confusion, then embarrassment, and finally, earnest hurt—he saw it all in Grayson’s luminous eyes, and then it was as if that light dimmed somehow when Jason chose to bluff instead of answer. But what could he say to the man who was both his standard and his bane. That he’d always hated Richard Grayson, adopted son of Wayne Tech president Bruce Wayne? That he’d hated what his name meant and the joy it used to bring? That he hated the disjointed fantasy every kid from Level Five entertained? Kids died believing Grayson's good fortune could be theirs.

Jason swipes a sensor sweep close with a huff. He’s supposed to be doing a close review of frequencies encountered by the communication’s officer, but his concentration is like an uncalibrated P223-modulator. Repeating blasts landing everywhere but the target.

From the corner of his eye he can see Grayson circling the perimeter of the deck. The loose, self-deprecating grin that usually lurked at the corner of his lips is missing.

They’ve only been living within each other’s pockets for a scant week, but Jason can already say this silent, prowling Grayson sets his teeth on edge. It has everyone off balance. The bridge, which had established an easy report within the first hours of the jump-ship’s launch is also missing. They’re all quiet now. Grayson had invoked the code, had mentioned undermining his authority, and Jason couldn’t deny it. Not when the evidence of his actions lay shattered at his feet.

Admitting to making a mistake is easy. His entire childhood history is one of mistakes—his own or others. Then comes the cleanup, the making it right. He has to make things right with the golden boy and to the crew.

He’s never been good at apologies. They weren’t a thing in Gotham. Regret, like water and respect, was a luxury no one could afford, at least if you made your home on Level 5, so far from the shining jewel of Gotham’s city center it seemed like a dream. He just has to find the right way to admit his wrongdoing without saying he was sorry. Jason jabs his thumb into the input, frowning. He wasn’t sorry, but he did regret his actions. Fuck, Brown is right. He is a mess.

A new alert unfolds above his station distracting Jason from his circling thoughts. It’s an updated sensor sweep from the outrider drones he’d deployed. They’d been approved by Grayson, much to his surprise. After the grief he received over weytham alloy, he thought the request would be denied.

The alert shows a line construct of the ship with the wave frequencies and heat signatures appearing along their projected course. He spreads two fingers expanding the course set then compares it to the previous alert. A roiling mass oozes across their path where there was once empty space.

The mass spreads too wide and is too close. There’s no clear data regarding its composition. So, he’s unwilling to let the ship simply fly through it.

“Pilot Danvers prepare to adjust the ship’s flight path according to incoming coordinates. Mark.”

Grayson’s strident voice interrupts him. “Danvers, stop. Todd, explain yourself.”

“There’s no time.” Jason sends the path adjustment. Or tries too. He jams his finger against the transference screen. A row of red lights blooms in a circle. He’s been locked out. He swings around to find Grayson at his shoulder. He stares down at his commanding officer incredulously. “You locked me out?”

Grayson draws himself to his full height and glares back. “Second Lt. Todd, I will not allow another act of insubordination.”

“Grayson.” Jason trails off reeling. He didn’t think the _sol-one_ had it in him.

“I’m waiting for an explanation, _lieutenant_.”

“Yes sir. Sorry sir,” Jason says through gritted teeth. “The sensors detect a frequency mass within the jump ship’s path. It’s dead ahead. Establish a new course using these readings. There’s no time to delay. If there was, you’d be reading it in a report.”

Grayson’s eyes bore into his. “Coordinates,” he says and this time, Grayson doesn’t back down.

Jason swears before rattling off the chain of numbers. “It’s a large cloud, and the jump set is set to intersect with the largest arm of this mass if we don’t—”

Grayson interrupts him. “Asher, set the nav-screen to those coordinates. I want visual and sensor readings.”

Space, the deep expanse of swirling gas and far off worlds, fills the air above them. The sensors peel away the visible spectrum, the known revealing the unknown. Static velocities, the quick waves bouncing between variable points. There is no mass.

Jason swallows and he can feel it echo across the silent deck. There’s only Grayson and himself standing in the visualizer. The rest of the crew are all turned towards their stations, heads down, ears open.

Grayson turns on him, and how did Jason think the light in his eyes had dimmed? They are furiously bright, alive. “Lt. Todd. Where did you pull these coordinates? And how do you explain the vast amount of nothing from the readings?”

“The outrider sensors,” he shouts. “Brown. Pull up the security outrider sensors marked FM002. That data file should have just loaded. I increased the range of two security sensors and had them sweep using an alternating variance to account for the distortion we registered. You approved this. Those sensors are saying there’s something out there. Something big, and we’re on a collision course. Sir.”

The long silence is broken only when Grayson gives Brown a terse nod. “Yessir,” Brown acknowledges quietly.

The air flickers and the security data appear. Grayson glances up then around the image. Jason circles to the other side. Projected from above, it looks massive bright and luminescent as an interstellar cloud.

“I want a full view of the current sensor readings and a visual.” Grayson says, even though he’s got to be staring out the front of the ship like Jason is, the rest of the crew. Jason spins to find Grayson hunched over the command console. “Projected distance.”

“Eighty-eight thousand seven-hundred fifty-one clicks and falling,” came the reading. “The jump ship will reach the mass in twelve minutes.”

“If it’s really there,” Grayson murmurs but it’s like his voice carries directly to Jason’s ears.

“ _Grayson_. We’re moving too fast to change course. Our inertial priori won’t—”

“I understand the mechanics of interstellar travel, Lt. Todd. If we attempt evasive action at this speed, our inertial priori will damage the hull. Maintain projected distance readings. Prepare for collision” Grayson swipes at his screen. It only takes a moment for Jason to realize he’s calculating paths.

“Seventy-eight thousand, two-hundred and three clicks and falling.”

Jason crosses the deck to loom over Grayson’s shoulder. “I need to access my console.”

“Denied,” the commanding officer says airily. Grayson doesn’t so much as glance at him.

“Danvers can’t fly through that thing,” Jason tries after swallowing back a curse. “We don’t know what it is, but we can go beneath it if you just.”

“Danvers, prepare to reduce speed according to Thayers regression on my mark.” Grayson says, ignoring Jason’s presence. This close Jason can see the tension knotting Grayson’s shoulders, but his voice is cool, commanding.

Danvers shifts at her station. “Sir.”

“Mark.”

Typically, a Thayer’s regression would provide the deceleration necessary to halt a ship’s path, but they’re too close to have any real impact. The jump ship would reach a full stop clicks into the mass. Even so, Jason can feel the slightest shift in his belly, as if the contents moved three yards right without his permission. Inertia played heavy games with the senses.

“Access my console,” says Jason. “And take the coordinates logged 0727001.” He stands at Grayson’s side, waiting. “I said the coordinates logged as—”

“0727001.” Grayson recites the log number then discards another simulated pathway. “I don’t think you understand what’s going on here, lieutenant.”

“I think I do, sir.” Jason snaps. “You’re about to let us fly into this cloud, which we could just avoid if you just. Just trust me. Use those coordinates, it can still work.”

Grayson looks up then, eyes startlingly blue. “No. No, Lt. Todd, I can’t just trust you. How could I? Just days ago, you put together some academy class scheme to humiliate your commanding officer. Your actions created a clear divide between the crew continues a pattern of insubordination flagged throughout your registry—oh.” His lips curve sharply when Jason starts. “You seem surprised. According to SFR CMND 786.1022.104 a commanding officer has leave to pursue closed discipline records of a subordinate during.

“And now, days after what should have been the first and only incident. You, Lt. Todd, inciting the navigator to change course without even notifying the commanding officer of a possible threat to this ship or the lives of its crewmen. And I can’t even be sure there’s a real threat. There’s a reason it’s called a chain of command, Todd. We’re supposed to link together.” Grayson closes the distance between them until Jason could feel the warmth drifting from his lean body. “We’re supposed to make the next link stronger. But you. You threaten to force everything to fall apart. Tell me again that I should trust you.”

The only thing worse than the ball of black anger boiling in Jason’s chest is the fact that Dick Grayson is right. His head pounds steadily. His jaw aches from the clench of his teeth to hold back a torrent of words that can only be directed at himself.

“Sixty-two thousand, four-hundred and eight clicks and falling.”

Jason closes his eyes and breathes. Thinks focusing that anger inward. When they open again, he feels calm. “You’re right, sir. My behavior sets a precedence of miscommunication and distrust. I can’t provide clear reason for my actions, only apologize and strive for better in your eyes and the eyes of this crew. But you have to listen to me. Please.”

There are protostars easier to read than Grayson’s expression. His handsome face is blank, the light in his eyes narrowed down to something neither skeptical or angry, and this strange, penetrating gaze he gives Jason seems to burrow deep inside. He wonders what Dick sees. Does he see Jason’s own flaws and self-righteous fury reflected back. Perhaps Jason’s fears that his life isn’t one of his own making.

“Sir.” Lt. Tai interrupts, voice terse. “We have visual confirmation of the cloud. And according to these readings this cloud. It’s the source of the signal, sir.”

All eyes turn to the main screen. Jason whirls back to the navstat. A soft whistle escapes his lips.

The cloud can be seen in space. It appears as a misty glowing gray and white field, wide and, according to the sensors, deep. It reminds Jason of an interstellar clouds and their mixture of dust, plasma, and gas, only it seems to be moving, a hypnotic shift fluctuating just beyond its closest arms. Deeper inside the mass, Jason sees a flicker of light like lightning scattered through storm clouds, but this moves endlessly within, an Urtaytian hawk-moth trapped within a net.

The sensor array comes to life beneath the real-time view of the threatening mass. Three images splay across each other like a topographical relief map of the area in question. The security readings have remained the same, but the primary sensor readings no display the same static-filled noise of frequency and strange matter

“Thirty-thousand clicks and falling. The jump ship will reach the mass in seven minutes.”

Jason tears his gaze away from the cloud. “What? We can’t just fly into it,” says Jason. “We don’t even know what it is.”

“Brown, report,” Grayson snaps glaring at the roiling tendrils of space dust that seem poised to lure them in.

“It appears that the mass is interfering with our primary sensors. We’re approaching at a decelerating rate, but well. The mass is closer than it appears, sir.” The nervous shrug can almost be felt in her voice.

Grayson turns back to Jason, eyes heated. They’re caught in another silent battle. This time Jason refuses to back down. Grayson nods. “Danvers, adjust the ship’s path to the coordinates from security log 0727001.”

Jason uncurls his fist with a sigh.

“The new path is set, lieutenant.”

“Good. Now adjust speed on my mark.” Grayson waits a beat before continuing. “Mark. Lt. Todd, you are removed from suspension. Raise us to high alert and increase forward and dorsal shields.”

“Sir.” Jason gives a smart nod before sweeping his security panel open. A trilling brass peal sounds across the deck. The lights fade and current of red sweeps around the bridge at regular intervals. “We are at high alert. Shields raised.”

“Brown, alert the Andromeda of our coordinates and the cloud’s existence. Let them know this is the possible origin of the frequency. I want a manual connection to the ship’s navigation system now.” Grayson swiftly issues the orders while his fingers move across the command console. “Todd, if the exosuits are needed, you and Ensign B’Dep are to be first out.”

“Yes Sir.” Jason and B’Dep acknowledges in unison.

It’s like Grayson stood in the middle of a ring and the world around him danced to his tune. Even Jason. Grayson continues. “What about those coordinates, Lt. Tai?”

“Sir, we continue to decelerate according to the Thayers regression while maintaining the coordinates provided by Lt. Todd. We should skim right under the bottom of this thing.”

Dick nods approvingly. His hand hovers over Jason’s shoulder, and after a moment it falls there with a light squeeze. “Good idea, Todd.”

The contact, the praise is quiet and short, but Jason’s heart begins to pound. Before Jason can fully appreciate the moment, the warmth spreading from their brief point of contact, before he can respond, Jason is pitched forward.

The ship shudders to an abrupt halt. A low groan echoed from the ship’s exterior. The floor tilts as the ship’s nose continues sliding at the projected angle. Jason remembers to grab his commanding officer and keep him safe. He wraps an arm around Grayson and braces against the security console.

Grayson glances down at the data feed, a small frown on his lips. “Tai.”

“We’ve lost complete impulse power upon coming to contact with the outer edge of the cloud. There’s a gravity pulse suppressing all aeronautical systems; navigation, propulsion, jump-drive. It’s all down, sir.”

“Like a tractor beam,” Grayson murmurs. He squirms within the circle of Jason’s arms. “Todd, ship status.”

Jason adjusts his grip on his commanding officer before sliding fingers across the screen. The ship’s status HUD flares to life before them. “Shields are still holding. Hull integrity at .0037 degradation and climbing. We’re about three meters deep into this outer edge.” He exhales heavily staring at the downward slope of the ship. “Weapon systems still online.

“Our sensors are active, but communications and navigation are cut. Gravity is also compromised due to the frequency burst originating from the cloud.” Jason turns a lopsided grin towards his commanding officer tucked against him. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say this cloud is designed to detain space going vessels.” Jason looks out at the navsat. “But that’s impossible, isn’t it, sir? Who has the technology to amass an interstellar cloud like this and then hide its presence?”

“I don’t know,” says Grayson. “But I’m not going to let us sit here while we wait to—”

Whatever stirring words Dick is about to lay on the crew ends with a choked gasp as a thick, black wave completely encircles him.

“Grayson!”

Shouts of the other crewman fill Jason’s ears, but he can’t take his eyes away from the oozing energy that’s slowly spooling from Dick to his own body. It slowly latches onto Jason’s arm sending an icy wave through his system. He can’t pull away.

Jason tears his gaze away to find the other team members encircled.

“Computer, increase life support protocols to emergent contamination and secure the bridge.” Jason gasps as the energy sweeps over his head. He cannot see. He cannot breathe. He cannot feel. There’s only….

_Darkness, cold and unyielding, the furthest reaches of space, the heart of a dying star. What is the beginning but the foundation upon which the end will rest. The end. The end. Nothing but the end. No breath. No life. No light. All extinguished in the end._

And then, there’s light, soft, blue warmth spreading through the dark. The terror recedes, one by one, the stars rekindle, and Jason can breathe again.

“Todd, are you alright?” Brown’s voice cuts the cacophony of emergency alerts and the darkness crowding at the edge of his vision.

Jason snaps his head up. He’s free of the energy as are the rest of the crew. While the others float in place, Grayson is slumped into Jason’s chest, eyes closed.

“Yeah,” he croaks. “Yeah. I’m fine.”

B’dep twists to face him. “And the lieutenant?”

Jason rolls Grayson in his arms bringing his face up. He checks his pulse, which is steady, and his breathing, which is soft and slow. “Vitals seem steady. Is everyone else okay?”

Lt. Tai waves her hand. “All crew vitals are stable. Even. Even Lt. Grayson. The ship is still within the graviton cloud. Engines are non-responsive, and we can’t reach the Andromeda from here.” She frowns heavily. “What are we going to do?”

Jason searches across the crew and then stares down at his commanding officer.

“We’re going to get the hell out of here,” he announces.

They just have to figure out how.


	5. Chapter 5

 

Dick is sitting with Bruce on the couch watching a movie when Bruce’s datapad beeps. Bruce taps at it for a few moments and then he straightens.

“Dick.”

“What?” Dick turns away from the screen and looks at Bruce, whose face is illuminated by the blue screen. It reminds him of his mother.

“The test results are here.”

Dick crowds in closer and looks at the screen. A lot of it is DNA strings with labels in genetic coding that Dick doesn’t understand yet. “Where are they?” He asks.

Bruce pulls up the results and a profile pops up with a picture of an orb of light and the word Transcendent. Dick’s chest thrums with recognition. He knows that at some points his mother had said that word to him, but he hadn’t connected it with what he was. Having the word for it instead of just being “part alien” fills the room with small glowing orbs that shimmer like distant stars.

“I’m a Transcendent,” Dick says, taking the datapad from Bruce and reading the short profile. He’ll read it over and over again until he has the words memorized. The same way he won’t forget his parents, the years in the circus, or the way his mother lit up a room when she smiled, Dick won’t forget what he is.

“I’m a Transcendent.”

He looks up at Bruce, a puzzled frown on his small face. “What does it mean?”

A heavy hand falls upon his shoulder, and Bruce looks down at him, sad. “No one knows. Or maybe it’s easier to say, no one really remembers.”

 

* * *

 

Dick wakes to voices arguing in tightly controlled tones. A strange sensation filtering through his body leaving him weak. His head swims briefly and the air in his lungs feels thick and stale, trapped within his chest for hours. He’s being held against something firm, heavy. Dick blinks slowly taking in the pale gray curve he rests against illuminated by flashing emergency lights. And his feet aren’t touching the ground.

“Lieutenant, I just need you to confirm. Is this first contact?” Jason’s deep voice thrumming against his ear.

“I don’t know?” Tai’s voice, calm on the surface but frustrated. “Can you classify a cloud as a source of technology devised by a sentient society?”

“It’s not impossible. Seriously, lieutenant, this can’t be naturally occuring.”

“We don’t know that. We don’t! It could be anything, Todd. We’re beyond the known reaches of CA space in a quadrant of the galaxy with little to no exploration. I could classify it as dangerous definitely, an anomaly, but first contact.” Tai trails away.

Jason’s chest contracts and expands in annoyance. Dick bobs with the motion. In this moment he realizes he’s within the circle of Jason’s arms, his broad palm resting at the small of his back in a protective circle Dick’s loathe to leave.

“Lieutenant, this determination is important. It’s why you’re here.”

“I would not classify it as first contact,” Tai says. “The lieutenant may see this as some Galadorian remnant, which wouldn’t classify as first contact, but the CA doesn’t typically fire upon ancient technology from our allies.”

“Great. We either have remnants of an advanced society that lures ships into their trap for untold, nefarious purposes or.” Jason pauses.

“Or?”

“Or we’re inside of a sentient cloud transmitting frequencies to attack leviathans for their supper.”

Dick finally lifts his head. It still feels heavy, but clear. “What movie did you steal that plot from?”

Jason looks down at him, a relieved, crooked smile on his face. “Welcome back, sir. And I didn’t steal it from anywhere. The Sornaii speak of ambient space fluids that trap and feed on leviathans. I can pull the information into a report for you to read, after we make it out of here of course.”

Dick groans at the thought of reading another report from Second Lt. Jason Todd ever again. “That’s not funny.”

“Sir, are you okay?”

Dick tilts his head to find Tai and the rest of the crew not manning bridge stations holding the command station. He offers them a sharp nod. “I am.” He twists a little, pulling away from Jason. “We seemed to have gotten very close all of the sudden,” he murmurs.

“I wasn’t going to let you float into a wall,” Jason says before releasing him. A heavy hand settles on Dick’s hip keeping him righted. Dick doesn’t want to admit it, but the small sign of support washes away the last of the haze from his thoughts. He turns back to Tai.

“Can you bring me up to speed.”

“Of course.” Tai floats up to the command station. “The jump ship has entered the outer edge of the cloud. Our initial attempt to reverse our position using sub impulse power was not successful.”

“Understatement,” Brown murmurs behind her hand.

“Second Lt. Todd and I have run several models through the simulacrum. There are three that are viable. However, chance of success runs very low on the probability scale.

“Except one,” Jason adds, and Tai frowns heavily.

“Except one, which posits a twelve percent chance of success. It involves using force, hence the security team commander’s input. However, I can’t sanction the use of our weapons system if this is in fact our first contact with an unknown species.”

“But you can’t say that it _is_ ,” Jason says, bringing Dick fully to where he entered their conversation.

“It’s highly possible this is Galadorian in origin. It could be a Galadorian?”

Todd shakes his head. “No. The pattern was similar but doesn’t match any Galadorian signals within the CA library. I checked the initial analysis with other song-form variants, including historic archives,” he adds.

The Galadorians had been a part of the Alliance for millennia. Any records Jason searched would have been extensive.

“What about the. What about the wave? I felt something surround and entrap my thoughts if only for a second. Was anyone else affected?” Dick blinks at the sudden press of fingers along his spine. Jason’s grip seems to tighten, angrily? Worriedly? This close Dick can see both emotions warring in Jason’s eyes.

“We were caught in a suspended state six tenths of a second. But lieutenant, you were suspended for nearly ten seconds, according to the vital readings.” Jason’s voice grows hushed. “Are you sure you’re okay, sir?”

“I am,” Dick says, firmly. “And now that I am up to speed, I want to see the simulacrum results. Have we re-established contact with the Andromeda?”

“No sir.” Asher brings up the communication relay. “We’re still unable to transmit through the cloud. I can’t confirm if our initial message transmitted”

“Then we’re going to need to break free of the cloud,” Dick says. “I want to review the simulacrum. No commentary,” he warns. “And then we’ll discuss with a fresh outlook. Regardless, our strategy will allow us to safely return to our ship. And we will be returning to the Andromeda.”

He lets his gaze sweep across his crewmen, letting them see his surety, his respect, and his belief. They’re going to make it home. All of them. And slowly, one by one, he sees the crew respond. From Brown to Tai, B’dep to Danvers, Tai to Roth, their faces take on an air of determination. And Jason. Their eyes meet, and Jason removes one of his hands from Dick’s waist to raise his fist to his chest in a perfect CA salute. Gone is the resentment and the anger, if only for this moment, and Dick feels like he’s at the helm of a unified ship.

It takes several runs of the computer simulations before Dick sees the beginning of an answer. Jason’s analysis of the final simulation is the most viable. Firing into the cloud might disrupt the space enough for the ship to move.

The issue of first contact is non-binding, in his opinion, and after a thorough read of the statute by Tai, and review of precedents, Dick accepts the risks. The only remaining issue is that their strategy might work. Might. Dick just wishes there is a way to increase the odds.

Outside the main view port, the cloud continues to pulse and wave. The size and shape of it meant that the jump ship should have spotted it well before Jason’s security sweep caught it. It bordered on colossal, containing the width and breadth of materials needed to form stars, without the gravitational density. Strange.

“Danvers, Todd, look at this.” Dick lifts his chin, so Jason can view the readings over his shoulder. Jason’s brow furrows. Dick can see the moment when he sees it, the tiny pocket of density threading through the cloud.

“What do you know about recursive distillation?” Dick asks after a pause.

The corner of Jason’s lips tips upward, and this close, Dick can see the way it makes his eyes crinkle. “Enough to know that a timed density shift can and will disrupt gravity impulse.”

Danvers brow furrows. “I don’t follow, sir.”

“It means the lieutenant has found a way to increase the odds,” Jason says, arms tightening around Dick.

“Can you access the outriders?”

Jason’s eyes widen. “I don’t know sir. I didn’t try.”

“It’s entirely possible that the cloud’s interference will block your connection,” Dick says, only to be interrupted by Jason’s small crow of triumph.

“Negative, sir. The outriders are operating under an advanced, if unorthodox spectrum. I can access the outrider sensors.” He glances at Dick from the corner of his eyes. “Permission to access the sensor’s defensive array.”

“Permission granted.”

Dick watches Jason key through the complex series of release and locks necessary to access and then control the external sensors defensive systems. He nods when Jason affirms his status.

“I’m taking full, manual control of the ship’s remaining nav-systems. We’ll need a cascading shift to coincide with that frequency wave. It should allow us enough time to drop out of this cloud.” Dick looks down suddenly aware of the complete lack of space between them and how long the two of them stayed together like this without comment from the rest of the crew.

“You’re going to have to let go of me,” he says, quietly. There’s a flush heating his cheeks, and he hopes he isn’t glowing. The feel of it seems exhausted, like it’s been wrung straight out of him, which only happens after extreme physical exertion.

“Sorry sir, TacOps protocol 89028nej-Alpha. TacOps must extend every reasonable opportunity to secure the well-being of their commanding officer during catastrophic events.” And Jason winks at him. Winks.

“Nice to see I’m not the only one who can spit regulations,” Dick says, wryly. “At your leisure, Todd.”

“Yessir,” Jason says with a bit of a nod. He releases Dick’s elbow and waist, allowing him to float to the command station proper.

The navigation panel springs to life between his hands.

“Lt. Grayson, I’ll be waiting for your mark.”

“Understood.” Dick runs the navstat a final time. He’s ready. “Mark!”

On the commander’s orders Jason sends out a barrage of plasma torpedoes. The spread fans out in a six-burst spread hitting the next fluctuating band of light pulsing through the cloud. The ship rocks gently like a boat on water, gravity returning to the ship with a shuddering moan. The rest of the ship’s systems flare to life.

A jump ship belongs to the smallest class of distance cruisers collapsing the distance between process and action. There’s the mildest shudder beneath Jason’s feet as the ship’s impulse engines twist and the ship forces its way from the bleeding edge of the cloud.

“Let’s get the hell out of here.” Grayson guides the ship well out of the range of the cloud before declaring them safe. “Put us on the safest course to the Andromeda. We’re going home.”

A loud cheer sounds through the bridge, the small crew celebrating with whoops. Salutes quickly collapse into tight hugs. Each hand he clasps, each slap on the back feels like a benediction. And then he turns to find Todd standing just behind him. Dick swipes a wing of heavy hair from his eyes and nods curtly.

“Lt. Todd,” he says, softly, not hesitant but reserved again. “Once we’ve communicated our findings to the Andromeda, I’d like you to come have a drink with me.”

Jason’s heartbeat finally slows. It is the last thing he’d ever expect to come from Dick Grayson, and it’s the one invitation he knows he’ll never turn down. “Yes sir.”


	6. Chapter 6

The walk back to Dick’s quarters with Jason behind him, eyes burning into his back, feels endless. On the deck when Lt. Todd had pulled him close, Dick was fine. The weight of arms around him had kept him focused. When Jason’s thumb started idly stroking where it was resting on Dick’s hip, that was when Dick’s brain began to short circuit. Jason’s behavior towards Dick had allowed him to quash down any feelings of attraction that stirred in his abdomen when he looked at Jason.

But the way Jason had smiled at him on deck as they figured out how to navigate away from the mass had done things to him. Dick doesn’t quite know what Jason’s feelings for him are, but as they talked back and forth as they navigated out of the cloud, it had felt like Todd was finally seeing him as an equal. Dick doesn’t know if he’s earned Lt. Todd’s respect yet, and he has no idea what he’ll have to do to really earn it, if he really needs it, but it feels like the childish games between them are finally over.

They finally arrive at Dick’s quarters and the door slides open, the quiet hiss the only sound as they step inside, doors sliding shut behind them. Dick’s quarters on the jump ship are simpler than they are on the Andromeda. There’s a bed in the back of the cabin, a table with two chairs, some storage cabinets, and two doors, one leading to a closet, and another leading to the bathroom. The thing that sets the cabin apart from the other cabins on the ship is a small, locked, wooden cabinet tucked into one of the corners of the room.

Every captain’s quarters contain a cabinet with the same contents, and the jump ship is no exception. Inside each cabinet is a holopad containing the Alliance’s recognized religious and philosophical texts, a first aid kit, an emergency space suit, and a bottle of whiskey. The whiskey is officially there as a disinfectant to sterilize wounds, but every higher officer knows it’s for drinking. Most ships allow synthethol, but some people still liked the old earth style of drinking. According to many of the Gothamites Dick had talked to, synthethol doesn’t have the same feel as old earth alcohols.

Dick types in the code on the cabinet and pulls out the bottle of whiskey, setting it down on the table and then pulls out two glasses and sets those down too.

“Would you like anything with yours?” Dick asks, poised to search the other cabinets for a mixer.

Jason picks up the bottle and shakes his head as he reads the label. “Not with this stuff,” he says as he unscrews the top and pours himself two fingers of whiskey, handing the bottle to Dick, who does the same.

“Go ahead and sit down,” Dick says, gesturing to the chair closest to Jason as he sits down in his own chair.

Jason sits, and he swirls the contents of his glass, there’s something in his gaze as he stares into the liquid and Dick watches him before he’s moved to break the silence.

“Should we toast?” Dick holds his glass out in offering. “To saving the ship.”

“Yeah,” Jason says, looking up at Dick and clinking their glasses together. “To saving the ship.”

They lapse into another silence as they sip their drinks, Dick setting his down on the table and Jason keeping his in his hand. Dick has had his fair share of alcohol between events in Gotham and his time in the academy. He’s come to realize that the price or quality of the alcohol doesn’t matter, the company means more to him than the drink does. Dick has always been terrible with long silences, and he searches for a way to break it.

“So, you’re a registrant from Level 5,” Dick says.

“Yep,” Jason says. The people of sector one like to paint it as a hub of industry, ignoring all the issues with poverty and corruption there. Dick had never traveled further than Level 3 to make public appearances, but those visits had been heavily monitored.

“I’ve never been to sector five,” Dick offers. “What’s it like?”

Jason’s mouth quirks up in a pained smile. “Nothing like sector one,” Jason says.

“Tell me.”

So, Jason begins to talk about Sector 5. It unfolds in Dick’s mind, the base of the cylindrical colony, the rotating hive of maintenance platforms used to sustain life for the other sectors, and the dwindling living space in the margins. The picture Jason paints isn’t bleak, but it is harsh, a life of never having, of signing away to either managing shit or boarding the miner’s ships and joining the resource corps. Wayne Tech programs are always available, but space, resources, respect. They never seemed to make their way to the bottom of the rung.

“But looking back, it doesn’t seem all that bad, really. Better than joining a syndicate.”

“Did you? Join a syndicate? I’d heard they started recruiting in the lower sectors.”

Jason ‘s lips spread into that crooked grin. “Did you now?” There’s a bite in his voice now, that sharpened resentment.

“You’re doing it again,” Dick says.

“What?”

“Pretending that you know something about me that you don’t.”

“And what is it that I don’t know about you, the rich _sol-one_ that used the Wayne name to climb to the top and get to lead a mission after only two years out of the academy.”

“That I worked my ass off for all of it,” Dick says. “That since the moment I joined academy, I’ve been trying to put myself away from the Wayne name and the whole ‘Face of Gotham’ that they were trying to turn me into. I’m not some AI that they can manipulate into giving inspirational speeches every day. I don’t understand why you still see me as that person.”

“Because you are that person,” Jason snarls. “You’re the person every single kid looks up to in sector five. Starving kids would look at those stupid holograms of yours and think that maybe, someone would come save them the way Bruce Wayne saved you, maybe they’d be the ones with their faces plastered all over Gotham telling kids they could do it. Do you know how many kids died still thinking they could be like you?”

“That’s why I left,” Dick leans forward to meet Jason’s gaze. “Because the person in the holograms wasn’t who I really was. I was tired of knowing that everyone had these expectations from me and I wasn’t going to live up to them. And you know what? I thought I had escaped all of that. I thought I had defined myself as my own person until I met you and you brought all that shit back up. Why did you have to do that?”

“You don’t understand,” Jason’s voice is so low that Dick has to lean in close to hear him. “I grew up in your shadow on Gotham. All the kids did. Every one of us sold the same lie that maybe if we worked hard enough, if we became good little colonists, we could be like you. We’d be your equal.” Jason’s expression twists. “Then I get to academy and you’re there, the hologram that I’d looked up to my entire life, and somehow, you’re more beautiful and charming in person than you ever on those screens. Academy was going to be my chance. My place to be equal, but even then, everyone was in your shadow, trying to be as good as you, trying to have your fucking luck, but no one did.”

Jason’s tongue darts out to lick his lips and Dick stares at them for longer than he’d like to admit.

“Then we’re on the same ship after graduation and I think maybe I’ll be your second in command on the mission. Maybe I can prove to you that I worked just as hard as you did and climbed my way up from sector five to work at your side and then you pass me over for fucking Tai.”

“Tai is a-”

Jason lifts a hand and cuts him off. “Do you know what it’s like to constantly strive for something you don’t fucking need?” Jason asks. “On the colony, I always got as close as I could to the stage during your speeches. In the academy, I got the top rankings in my path in academy. And now here, I’m writing these damn reports because for some stupid fucking reason, I feel like I have to impress you. I hate it! I shouldn’t care, but I do because for some reason, whenever I have your attention, I feel like I made it. I feel like I finally accomplished everything you said we could accomplish.”

Dick looks at Jason for a long moment. A tinge of pink has colored Jason’s cheeks and it makes his heart pound in his chest. In the back of his mind, Dick had known Jason was handsome, but now, as Dick watches the fire in Jason’s eyes light up the room, he can’t fight the burn of attraction that’s made its way to the forefront of his mind. This whole time, Jason was fighting to show Dick how capable he was. The rankings at the academy, the detail in the reports that would make data specialists jealous, and the way Jason had rebelled against those feelings.

“Grayson?” It’s not the first time Jason has said his name, Dick realizes this as he looks back up to Jason’s eyes, he looks concerned.

“I’m sorry,” Dick says as he straightens a bit in his chair, he can feel heat rushing up his chest to his cheeks and the tips of his ears. Had they really been that close together?

“Are you okay?” Jason asks him.

“I... yeah,” he says, voice a little distant.

“Okay,” Jason says when Dick doesn’t say anything else. “You’ve kind of been staring at me for the last minute and not saying anything.”

“Sorry,” Dick apologizes again, the words that come next leave without thinking. “It’s just that you have such a pretty mouth and I want to ruin it.”

It takes a few seconds for both to fully process those words. Jason leans back in his seat, eyes a little wide and Dick flushes even more, heat in his cheeks. Dick is about to apologize, trying to search for a way to backtrack after he’s revealed his attraction to Jason in a moment of being distracted.

“I’m sorry,” Dick shakes his head. “This was meant to be something to deal with the tension between us, but I think I made it worse.” He meets Jason’s gaze and it feels like he’s being pulled in, two planets caught in the same crushing well of gravity until they collide.

Dick doesn’t know who moves first, but seconds later they’re clinging to one another, lips caught in a deep kiss. It’s messy, all teeth and tongue as Jason presses him against the cool metal wall of Dick’s quarters. They fight for dominance in the kiss, tongues pressing past each other’s mouths, only to be nipped on. Jason brings a hand up to Dick’s hair, fisting it there tightly.

Dick gives up in the battle for dominance between them, letting Jason into his mouth, moaning softly when Jason’s tongue slides against his own. The kiss is rough, Jason’s mouth attacking his with bruising force, but Dick presses back with equal fervor. The air is hot between them and Jason’s hands slide under his shirt. Dick pulls it off, tossing it aside and Jason’s mouth moves down, nipping at his neck, sucking marks onto the tender skin as Dick moans underneath him. Jason’s hands are warm as they run up and down the planes of Dick’s chest.

“I don’t know, Lieutenant. This seems like the perfect way to burn off some steam,” Jason growls in Dick’s ear as he pulls his own shirt off. Dick gets to stare at Jason’s well-muscled chest for a few moments before Jason’s mouth is on his again, biting his lip and kneading it with his teeth.

Dick pulls his head back, ignoring the dull thump of it against the wall. “Don’t just tell me,” Dick replies, eyes hot. “Show me.”

Jason practically growls as he lifts Dick up and carries him to the bed, dropping him there without ceremony. He grabs Dick’s hand and presses it to his groin and Dick’s eyes widen when he feels Jason’s erection through the cloth of Jason’s slacks. Jason is bigger than he imagined, most guys like Jason have something to overcompensate for, but under his hand, Jason is hot and thick.

“You feel that?” Jason asks as he undoes his belt, tossing it aside. “That’s how ready I am to fuck you.”

“Yes,” Dick whispers, blue eyes wide and mouth parted. He gets to his knees and grabs Jason’s hips when Jason pulls his pants down, stepping out of them and against the edge of the bed. Dick pulls down the waistband of Jason’s black briefs and gets on his knees. Jason’s cock slips free and Dick looks up at Jason before he takes the head, already leaking precome, into his mouth. Jason groans above him and Dick takes Jason further into his mouth, closing his eyes as Jason’s fingers thread through his hair. Dick bobs his head, but Jason pushes him back.

“Not yet,” Jason says. “As much as I love having the Golden Boy of Gotham sucking me off, I don’t want to come like this, not when I can be inside you.”

There’s a trail of saliva that trails from the head of Jason’s cock to Dick’s mouth and Dick licks it away. “Fuck that’s hot” Dick says. “There’s lube and condoms in my bag.” Dick gestures to the duffel bag on the floor with his chin. Jason doesn’t move. “Are you going to stand there or are you going to fuck me until I scream your name?”

Jason stares at Dick for a long moment before a dam in him breaks and he moves to the bag, digging through it and tossing the lube and condoms on the bed. Dick pulls his pants off and watches as Jason pulls off his underwear with enough force to rip them.

Then Jason is on top of him, their chests pressed together, and it feels so amazing Dick can’t help the small noise he makes. His eyes meet Jason’s and they look at each other for a few moments before they’re kissing again, Dick’s arms wrapping around Jason’s shoulders, getting lost in a kiss for the first time in what feels like ages. Jason pulls away and Dick gasps, feeling like he’s been dropped back into his body when their mouths break.

“Okay?” Jason asks, concern on his face when he sees the shock on Dick’s features. His voice has the same softness as it did on the bridge after Dick had woken up.

“Yeah,” Dick says.

“Okay,” Jason whispers as he leans back and opens the bottle of lube. He drips some onto his hand and it shines in the light of the cabin. Jason coats his fingers and then pushes Dick’s thighs apart, trailing up the inside of them with a touch that’s feather light and leaves Dick wanting. He’s already hard, his cock begging for attention, but Jason ignores it as he slides a finger between Dick’s legs, circling it around Dick’s entrance.

“Jason,” Dick says, tone pleading. Jason smirks above him and Dick lets his head rest back against the sheets with a groan. It’s then that Jason presses his finger inside and Dick lets out a low moan of pleasure. It has been so long since he’s done this, since he’s felt the sweet burn fade into pleasure. Jason slides his finger in and out of Dick and he rolls his hips into it.

“You’re so eager for me,” Jason says as he slips a second finger inside Dick, stretching him with slow, tantalizing movements as Dick stretches around him. “So hot and tight for me,” he leans down and bites the sweet line of flesh between Dick’s neck and shoulder, causing Dick to cry out as Jason scissors his fingers. Jason slides a third finger in and he moves them, searching until he finds Dick’s prostate, Dick crying out as he feels a shock of pleasure run through him.

“Jason, please,” Dick begs.

“Please what?” Jason asks as he pulls his fingers out and wipes them on the sheets.

“Fuck me,” Dick says as he looks into Jason’s eyes.

“Well,” Jason says, “Since you’re asking so nicely.” He grabs a condom, tearing the packet open and rolling it onto his cock. He grabs the lube and coats himself with it, giving it a few pumps as he lines himself up with Dick’s entrance. “Do you know how many people on Gotham have imagined this?” Jason asks as he presses the head of his cock against Dick’s entrance, teasing as Dick writhes underneath him. “How many people see your face on the holoscreens, telling us that if we try hard enough, we can be like Dick Grayson?”

“Jason,” Dick growls and Jason pushes the tip of his cock inside him. Even his fingers weren’t quite enough for the stretch from his cock, Dick exhaling as Jason presses inside, achingly slow.

“Well,” Jason says as he bottoms himself out. “I’d rather be fucking Dick Grayson,” he says. There’s a light sheen of sweat on Jason’s skin, the white and blue light of the cabin reflecting in it. Dick looks into Jason’s eyes.

Dick arches his hips with a challenging smile and Jason moans, Dick smirking underneath him.

“Do you think you can handle me?” Dick asks.

“I don’t know,” Jason replies. “You’re a lot hotter and tighter than everyone always imagined you were. We always thought you’d be looser after all those people you slept with in academy. You were always such a hardass on the bridge though,” Jason starts moving, mouth falling open as he slides out and then presses back in again. “I’m really not surprised you’re this tight.”

“I have a reputation,” Dick says, eyes closed as he adjusts to Jason’s size. “I can’t just fuck around with my crew when I’m trying to earn their respect.”

“And yet here we are,” Jason says as he bottoms himself out.

“Shut up,” Dick says as he looks into Jason’s eyes, pushing his hair out of his face, there’s a sheen of sweat on his own skin. “There was something between us, I felt the way you were touching me,” he lets out another moan as Jason hits his prostate with a well-aimed thrust. “That’s not how you would have touched me if you hated me.”

“Love and hate are very similar, _Dick_ ,” Jason says as he speeds up his thrusts. Dick moves a hand up to start stroking himself, but Jason slaps it away. “And I’ve always hated the way you made me feel.” Jason’s voice is soft, his confession pressed into Dick’s skin, but he hears it.

“I’m not the person on the screens,” Dick says, clenching a fist in the sheets as Jason starts stroking him. “Do you think I would have come here if I wanted to be the face of Gotham for the rest of my life?” His head tips back and he moans. “I didn’t want that. I want everyone to respect me,” he cries out as Jason starts hitting his prostate on every thrust. “I want you to respect me, not the holograms, not the Dick Grayson that Wayne Tech wanted me to be.”

“You can’t,” Jason says as he thrusts faster. Dick can feel his orgasm getting closer, he can see the way Jason is starting to lose himself. “You can’t escape your past.”

“I’m not trying to escape it,” Dick looks into Jason’s eyes. “Are you?” He grins when Jason stops for a brief moment before the thrusts resume, Jason’s hand tightening around his cock. Jason comes moments later, thrusting erratically, Dick moving his hips and fucking up into Jason’s hand as Jason rides out the last of his orgasm.

Dick’s orgasm hits him moments later, his head tipping back and a loud moan escaping his throat as Jason pumps him through it, waiting until he’s milked the last of Dick’s pleasure before he collapses down on the sheets next to Dick, both panting.

“I’m trying to be better than what Gotham was trying to make me,” Jason tells him.

Dick looks over at him, the way Jason’s hair curls just the slightest bit and into his blue green eyes. There’s something about the way Jason says the words, something that hits Dick hard in the chest. He’s finally found something in common between them. They’ve finally found common ground.

“So am I.”


	7. Chapter 7

 

The Andromeda is waiting at the designated rendezvous coordinates. The ship stands out against the vastness of space, gleaming in the ambient light of a distant sun. Its wedge shape has long reminded Dick of a spear, a tool to penetrate the unknown corners of the galaxy, but today, she looks like home.

The initial mission reports have already been transmitted along with all recorded data and the individual crew member reports. Now they’re waiting for containment protocols to go into effect, so they can board the ship and resume normal duties.

Looking at each member of the small crew fills Dick with a sense of accomplishment that’s matched by the relief he finds on their faces. They made it, every crewman accounted for, and to Dick, that is a successful mission.

It’s not the only thing successful about the mission. They discovered something new, they dealt with unseen danger effectively, and they came together as a crew. Dick is the most surprised by Jason, who came to his side and guided the ship to safety like he was born to do it. Then there was the way their bodies entwined, he still blushes when he thinks about it.

“I’m so proud of all of you,” Dick tells them as they wait for the Andromeda to finish preparing the quarantine chamber. “In our first mission together, we faced an unpredicted space anomaly within an unexplored quadrant. You all handled the situation with cool heads and we got out safe. This should be a mission you look back on as a great success. I already think of it this way.”

Slowly, the bay doors open, and the docking ship hosting the quarantine crew will be heading towards them.

 

* * *

 

Intellectually, Jason knew that Grayson filed the reports he threatened on the ship or at the very least, logged his behavior on the ship. He’d known his plan would have repercussions, had maybe even welcomed it when he first thought of it. Being escorted to the Tribunal Office at first artificial light makes it quite different.

The single overhead lamp beams down on him, conjuring sweat to his temples and a sullen, squint to his eyes to even see the three shadowy figures seated at the command table.

The center seat is dominated by Captain Gordon's broad shoulders. He’s flanked by the principal members of the ship’s disciplinary committee; whose cool stares reveal nothing of their thoughts. Captain Gordon’s mustache bristles with intent, and Jason’s knows he’s in for more than a slap on the wrist.

It’s been a long time since he’s sat in front of a tribunal, and Jason isn’t fueled by the same self-righteous anger in the past. Now, he’s feeling a little sick.

“You understand why this initial report is of grave concern, Second Lt. Todd, and why you’ve been brought to this disciplinary hearing?”

Drawing a steady breath, Jason stills the fingers flexing behind his back, then acknowledges the question. “Yes, I understand the complaint and the purpose of this meeting.”

“Well, that’s one of us,” Captain Gordon mutters. “I am beyond disappointed in the actions described in Lt. Grayson’s log. They are the actions of a recruit, not a tactical officer on a CA ship, and border on seditious.”

“Yes, Captain.”

“But when I reviewed your Academy record, I found exactly one disciplinary mark on your record. One, with an asterisk, extenuating circumstances. It’s all here, Todd. First in class for tactical operations, mastered stratagems for the spatial, interstellar, and hand-to-hand combat. Excellent marks in your leadership courses, positive ratings from your peers, trainers, superior officers, and your sponsor, Admiral Queen” he pauses, eyes growing wide at the name, “Your sponsor. A good name to have in your corner, yes. All of these things have helped you make it this far.”

No, it was Gotham that forged Jason, gave him a place to fuel that passion and rage against the colony’s failings. He fights for discovery, for a better way, for a place to belong. Seeing Grayson at the top of the ladder had set him back in that small mindset of the past, he can see that now. His anger and jealousy put the entire mission in jeopardy and the lives of his crew in danger.

“And your superiors assured me this type of behavior is not indicative of your work ethic in the year you’ve joined the Andromeda. Am I wrong to take them at their word?”

Jason clenches his fist. “No, Captain.”

Captain Gordon strokes his mustache thoughtfully. “Then you can see why I’m confused. Explain to me why we’re even here, Second Lieutenant.”

Before having drink with Grayson, Jason probably wouldn’t have been able to explain it to himself. Now he knows. They’re here because Jason had lost control. All the anger, all the pressure, all the pain he had pushed to the side after leaving Gotham had boiled over in the face of Dick Grayson’s disregard of his talents as a crewman and an equal. However much of it was perceived or a true omission from Grayson didn’t matter. Jason should have never let that happen.

“To put it simply, sir, we’re here because I acted like an ass,” Jason says. “My actions were misguided and wrong, and they fostered distrust between myself and the team leader as well as the team leader and the crew. Even if I was trying to break down some of those barriers in some misguided way, I built the walls between command and crew higher.

“Moreover, I put the lives of my crew in danger. If not for the tremendous leadership shown by Lt. Grayson, I might not be here today.” A raised hand from the captain stops Jason before he can continue. He follows it to Gordon’s mustache, which fluffs and ruffles as if on its own volition.

The commander raised a brow. “You go out of your way to antagonize the hell at him and now you’re ready to fall on your proverbial sword for him?”

“I was wrong,” Jason says, simply. “Whatever Grayson put in his report, I admit to and accept, including the disciplinary recommendations.”

“You do. Here’s what your commanding officer recommends, along with a recommendation from Lt. Grayson himself.” Gordon’s mustache flexes revealing a hard smile beneath the brushy hair. “Let’s see what they have to say.”

 

* * *

 

Although open to all, the crewman’s lounge on Deck 17 is frequented by members of the tactical and security teams and considered theirs by default. During off duty hours, the place is packed with varying teams, but just about everyone comes through looking for a good time. There’s an allure to unwinding with the unofficial bad boys of the fleet, Jason muses, because he’s never seen this many boisterous people in say, the lounges engineering or science claimed as their own.

From the corner of his eye, Jason spies a dark head weaving through the crowd. The light shades it a soft blue-black that he knows feels like silk in his hands. He pauses mid-sentence, focusing on where the person might exit, but when he does, and the body resolves itself into something unfamiliar and unappealing, Jason sighs in disappointment.

His fellow tac-spec, Kyle Rayner, stares at him, a frown furrowing his handsome face. “Todd, you still with us?”

Caught, Jason rubs the back of his head sheepishly turning back to Kyle and Stephanie, who joined him for a drink to celebrate his not being tossed in the brig. “Sorry. Just thought I saw someone.”

“That’s the second time tonight. We boring you or something?”

“Yes,” Jason laughs when Kyle brushes a thumb across his cheek, an insult he picked up in the Odorgor Wastes. “Anyway, I was talking about the captain.”

“Yeah. On a scale of fission to nova, how mad was he?” Kyle asks.

“Captain was doing that thing where his mustache kind of,” Jason wiggles his nose so that his upper lip protrudes in a discontented motion. “You know.”

Kyle groans. “You upset the mustache? How dumb do you have to be, Todd?”

“Seriously, Jason. I thought you were done throwing your weight around with the bar-set.” Stephanie chimes.

After exiting quarantine, Jason had personally apologized to every crew member. The reactions varied, but Stephanie had only slung an arm around his neck, dragged him down low and scrubbed her hand through his head, telling him, “There’s the Jason I know.” And truthfully, it does feel like he’s returned to the clear-eyed, dedication that allowed him to join the Andromeda. It’s been good having Stephanie around, someone who knows him and has his back. And will call him on his shit like this thing with Dick. He can see how she’d think it had something to do with Dick being part of the bar-set.

The bar-set, Jason thinks, and winces mentally. The command class whose rank is designated by the bars attached to their perfectly pleated collars. Different from his own stripes or the science officers’ circle quadrants and so on. Another way to be set apart, ranked. He’d had enough of that kind of thinking when he’d first come to the Academy and wanted to make sure that no one could talk down to the Level 5 brat from the Gotham colony. He got into a lot of fights with members of the command track. Won more than his fair share be it in the classroom, the combat room, or after hour brawls. He let that anger carry him through nearly two years at the Academy.

Living like that, struggling with fist, foot, and words every second of the day had been exhausting. Jason had to change. There had been no other option, so he took that anger and channeled into pushing himself further. Over time, he’d grown to accept that the Academy, and by extension, the Cosmic Alliance was different than his colony. Equity, equality, and unity weren’t just words. They allowed each cadet to transform and brought a diverse group together as a whole. He lived that dream. He believed it. And then he forgot it. His time at the academy, graduation, and his time earning his lieutenant stripes had been washed away from a flood of resentment about serving under a Level 1 Gothamite.

On that single-mission, Jason nearly tore apart the ideal he spent five years trying to uphold.

Jason’s lips curl into a tight grin. At least he knows that’s only part of where the frustration stemmed from. The other half came from how deeply he’s fallen. And now that he knows what Dick tastes like, how he radiates heat like a sun, how their combined energy collides, he just can’t get Grayson out of his head. Again.

A terrible problem when he’s going to spend time running training missions with the guy.

“Come on, Todd!” Stephanie slaps his shoulder, bringing his attention back to the conversation. “Stop stringing us along and get to the good part?”

“There’s a good part to all of this?” Jason asks, amused.

“Yes,” says Kyle. “We’re waiting to hear why you’re still walking around on duty instead of being shipped out to Solestra’s 9th moon or something. Stop keeping it a secret.”

“It’s no secret. My commanding officer suggested a disciplinary path that echoed the Lt. Grayson’s recommendations. We’re going to be working with spec-ops to develop theoretical tactics for identifying, avoiding, and if necessary, maneuvering within the graviton cloud.”

“Graviton cloud?”

“It’s what Grayson and I referred to the anomaly in our joint report, and the name just stuck.” Jason leans back as his friends lean well within his personal bubble of autonomy. “What? Is something wrong?”

Stephanie and Kyle exchange glances.

“No, not at all,” says Kyle.

“We’re just wondering how it could be that you’re okay running extra time with the guy responsible for you disrespecting the ‘stache for 2 hours this afternoon.”

“I know,” Jason says. “But I have to admit, Grayson might be the real deal.”

“Oh man. ‘The real deal?’ Seriously, Todd? Look at me.” Kyle ducks in closer and stares into Jason’s eyes. A woeful expression spreads over his face. “I can see it, Brown. This man definitely has credits shining in his eyes. Grayson must’ve dropped a ton of them for that kind of endorsement” He dodges Jason’s swipe.

“Fuck you, Rayner.”

“You always swore you hated the guy, and now he’s the real deal? What else am I supposed to think?”

Shrugging, Jason rattles the ice in his glass. “In the last forty-eight hours, we made a huge discovery, possibly interacted with a form of technology no one has seen before, and escaped death. The outcome of these events have forced me to reevaluate my opinion.”

Kyle presses a hand to his chest in feigned shock. “Is he…? Brown, is Second Lt. Jason Todd admitting he’s been wrong about his sworn nemesis this entire time?” He nudges Stephanie with his elbow, but she’s gone still against the bar, frowning up at Jason with a worried look in her eye. Jason meets her stare.

“Oh no,” she says. “Oh, no, Jason. You didn’t.”

Jason takes it all back. It sucks having someone around who knows you so well.

“Didn’t what?” Kyle asks, looking between them, but Stephanie is jabbing a finger into Jason’s chest.

“Tell me you didn’t Instructor Tialmat this situation,” she hisses. Because he can’t tell her that, Jason drinks the last of his cocktail instead. Stephanie groans loudly almost drowning the greeting that comes over Jason’s shoulder.

“Todd, Brown, hello.”

Jason sets his expression before spinning around, and it holds when he finds Dick closing the distance between them. Jason hopes he didn’t come in at the wrong part of that exchange. Both Stephanie and Kyle straighten to form a protective flank.

“Lt. Grayson,” he says, popping into a sharp salute.

“Just Grayson will be fine.” Dick taps the open collar of his casual uniform. The bars have been removed signifying his off-duty status. Jason cocks an eyebrow.

“I see,” he drawls. “And what brings you to this side of the ship?”

“I’d say it’s for the company, but you haven’t introduced me to your friend.” Dick’s smile is a little too pleased with himself, but Jason can’t find it in him to be mad.

“This is Officer Kyle Rayner. Rayner, this,” he places a hand on Dick’s shoulder and is almost surprised it isn’t shrugged off, “Is the man of the hour. Totally saved our necks. And he’s in need of a proper drinks so I can give him a proper salute.”

Rayner laughs. “I’ll drink to that.” He signals the bartender.

Dick tenses for a moment, then laughs. “Okay, one drink.” He slips from under Jason’s hand and approaches the bar for his order.

Message received, Jason thinks, but he doesn’t let the snub get to him, at least not while Stephanie is eyeing him like a Tanor raptrops stalking their prey.

After their drinks are distributed, and Brown and Grayson exchange pleasantries, Jason asks, “What brings you to our lounge?”

“Meeting up with friends.” Dick nods vaguely over his shoulder towards a shadowy table in the corner. “And then we’re going to the night’s cultural seminar.”

“The one on Thraan cinema?” Kyle asks.

“Yeah. A couple in our group are really into it as an artform,” says Dick.

“Right,” says Jason. “I suppose there’s something poetic in seeing a triple bladed fan creating delicate food sculptures.” Dick’s fingers pause at the nape of his neck, then slide forward to cover his mouth. His laughter might be muted, but his eyes light up.

“It’s certainly an experience,” Dick agrees.

Stephanie leans against the bar and turns her probabing gaze to Dick. “Isn’t the showing on the deck five?”

Deck 5, the lifestyle area with its restaurants, galleries, and open clubs. It’s usually lively later in the day though.

Dick takes an unhurried sip before shrugging. “We like the atmosphere down here,” he says. “Anyway, Todd. I was hoping we could talk for a second. In private.”

“Sure. Excuse us.” He steps around his friends and guides Dick away from the bar highly aware that they’ll be speculation the second they’re out of earshot. He’s got to look into acquiring less gossipy friends. On the other hand, Jason always has a handle on the Andromeda’s undercurrent and that information can be quite useful.

They reach an empty table and set their drinks down. The table is tall, coming up to Jason’s chest. Dick rests his elbows on the edge and swirls his drink. Despite asking for privacy to speak, Dick doesn’t seem like a rush to talk. Maybe he heard Brown’s comment, and well, Jason hadn’t said anything. It’s probably time that he does.

“Do I owe you an apology?”

Dick glances at him, brow furrowed. “For what? I’m the one who sent my crewman to the disciplinary council. I wanted to know the outcome from the source.”

That answers the question of what Dick may or may not have heard. Jason relaxes a bit.

“That almost sounds like guilt, lieutenant. Are you going to apologize?” Jason asks, curious.

“No.” Dick’s voice is firm. “I provided a full report of our mission and that includes the events prior to the encounter.”

That sounds almost defensive. “Just trying to lighten the mood. The captain agreed with the disciplinary plan.” Jason quirks his lips. “I was very surprised with the TacOps resolution provided before your recommendation.” It could have been much worse. It probably should have been.”

“I’m glad that they considered my recommendation that we’re both included in developing the report and the new protocols for a graviton encounter. What about you?” Dick faces Jason then, shoulders straight, chin tipped to meet his eyes.

Jason meets his stare, trying to discern the reason behind Dick’s confrontational approach. He looks like he’s here to challenge Jason, so different from the casual stance he’d worn seconds ago at the bar. It makes Jason’s knuckles itch and his heartbeat quicken instinctively, always ready for a fight or a fuck. Dick’s eyes are fierce, his soft lips pouty and for a moment, Jason is back in the jump ship coaxing Dick’s mouth open with another kiss. He leans in closer, letting their fingers brush, and just that touch is enough for Jason to ignite. Their fingers twitch, slide, and Jason capture’s Dick’s hand in his. The skin is still soft, warm. It’s been less than three days since they’ve been back aboard the Andromeda free of the quarantine, nearly a week since they’d slept with one another on the jump back to the ship, but Jason feels like it’s been months. He’s hungry and hollow for more. Judging by the flush on Dick’s cheeks, he is too.

There’s so much Jason wants to say, but not here.

“I’m okay with the outcome. Thanks for that too. The recommendation and the chance to prove to you and the fleet that I’m supposed to be here. But hey, you wanna get out of here? I wanted to talk to you about that night. Our night.” His voice drops on those words. “And this isn’t private enough.”

Dick’s eyes flare, and he shakes his head quickly after dropping Jason’s hand. “I didn’t come here for that. I meant what I said before. I want to be better than what Gotham made me. And I want respect. Especially since we’ll be working together. That’s why I’m here.”

Dick’s expression is soft, pleading for understanding even, and Jason can already see where this is heading. He drains the last of his drink one rough swallow. Here he’d been thinking about trying to try something for real with Grayson, but the damage is already done, isn’t it. He squares himself and stares over Grayson’s left shoulder.

“Sir, if this is about you warning me off, don’t worry about it. I don’t sit around and boast, so no one will know you slummed around level five trash. Your secret is safe.” Jason slams down the glass and tries to get around Dick. He slips in front of Jason, hands up to keep his still.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Dick whispers, but Jason had already received the message twice over now. Those types of invitations are one time deals anyway, removing battle stress and adrenaline with your peers. They’re not supposed to mean anything.

“You couldn’t have meant it like that because nothing happened. See, I really am a fast learner,” Jason says. “Permission to leave, sir?”

When Dick nods, Jason walks past him, tossing a sneering, “good night lieutenant,” over his shoulder.


	8. Chapter 8

 

After twelve hours of feeding information into the strategy team and watching the results looped back again on the overhead screen, Jason is sure of one thing: he hates simulacrum modeling sessions.

Above the table, the jump ship, the cloud, and the surrounding area are perfectly rendered in a looping hologram. The model runs through the same twenty second progression and then is brought forward by the microsecond as the small team tried to work through the encounter.

“And you’re sure the data set retrieved by your sensors is reflected in the above scenario.”

Dick pauses before speaking, either stifling a sigh or composing his thoughts. Jason’s betting on the former. “Gujjar. This information came directly from the four sensor feeds working in tandem with the ship’s main navigation and sensor array. No data has been tampered, I assure you,” Dick says.

“But can we trust it,” Ensign Gujjar replies. “As both you and Todd noted, the main sensors didn’t read the cloud as existing until the jump ship was in visual range.”

“That’s not true. Jason’s sensors detected the cloud phenomena much earlier than the ship’s long-range sensors.”

The table turns to look at Jason, who stares back at Dick. They’re sitting at the head and foot of the table, just over a meter in length, but it feels so much further.

The team’s other scientist, Dr. Cale, looks up from her notes. “Todd. Those readings. How did you get them?”

“I’d wondered the same thing myself,” Dick adds. “In your report you mentioned setting our outriders with an expanded array.” Without notifying me, he doesn’t say. “Why?”

Jason drops his boots from the table and straightens in his chair. “Did anyone ever study Galadorian combat strategies?”

Several glances swing around the table before returning to him. Dick shakes his head. “I did not.”

“You should. Trying to decipher battle strats in song form is nothing but a good time. I did a preliminary reading about them when the mission specs said the distress call mimicked Galadorian signals. The Galadorians are an ancient culture that managed to survive what they described as ‘an endless struggle against destruction’ for longer than our home galaxy has been in existence. They called this destruction the End.”

For a second, Jason remembers the flooding cold dark seeping over his skin before his breath, his fears, his thoughts ended. He shakes it off, thinking of the calming light.

“They speak of the end as an idea, a force, and a physical presence, although there’s nothing in their history to give us an idea of what culture the End might be. However, they did keep detailed accounts of the End’s movements. One of their primary strategies was seeding interstellar lanes with distress signals and ambushing them when a ship stopped by. Honestly, it’s not a new tactic, but the Galadorians did offer insight on how they identified these signals. I’ve been wanting to test out the Galadorian spectrum range for a sensor array for a while. When the mission specs came in, well, it seemed like a good time to test it out.”

“And that’s what these signals are?” DIck points to the waves exuding from the hologram ship, lower than the others.

“Yes,” Jason says. “The Galadorians said their attackers existed in a ‘rift plane’. I took that to mean another dimension. That sensor pattern is supposed to detect rift plane activity. Allegedly. I mean. I don’t think the Galadorians even use ships anymore. Their translocation system allows them to cross galaxies in hours. It’s probably easier when you’re descended from beings of light and energy.”

Dick lips pull into a thoughtful frown, but whatever catches his attention is quickly shaken away. He focuses on Jason again, eyes sharp. “Right. It doesn’t look like anyone has marked that part of your report as relevant, Todd. So, we can replicate the sensor pattern. I’m sending this coding back through the channels.”

Jason offers him a lopsided grin. “We’re not on first names anymore, sir?”

Dick glances at him coolly, but the corner of his mouth twitches. “Let’s continue. Ensign Gujjar, you had another question about the sensors.”

“Yes. I’ve been thinking about this since the directives came to me with your mission log and the data. Now we see that the sensor array Todd used were configured to detect outside of the standard spectrum array. They were underneath as it were. If we look here.” The hologram zooms forward to the head of the cloud where the sensors struck and then faded. “We find that the cloud prevents the sensors to travel back to the ship. It occurs in this range of the electromagnetic spectrum.”

“Cosmic-ray photons, gamma rays, x-rays, ultraviolet radiation, visible light, infrared radiation, microwaves and radio waves,” Dick pauses. “That’s the entire applicable light energy. Where does the signal go?”

“Here.” The ensign rotates the model around to another point in the cloud. A burst of light skitters through the cloud, bouncing like lightning. Jason remembers seeing such an occurrence on the jump ship. It looked like lightning gliding through a storm cloud. When viewed through the model, the event seems less poetic and a lot more sinister.

“Light energy can’t get out.”

“You’re saying it traps light?” Jason glances at Dick, whose frown grows heavy. “Could we attribute that to the cloud’s density?”

The science officers laugh politely, and Jason rolls his eyes. Dick steps in.

“Or can we attribute it to the technology used to create that cloud.”

“Technology, lieutenant. Really?”

“Look at it.” Dick pulls the model back. Slowly, the cloud unfurled across the generated space like a child’s drawing of a star, five points spreading out until it crossed the jump ship’s path. “According to the outrider sensor’s readings, the cloud moved to intercept our ship. It was a trap. Now, what can we say about that?”

Jason can't help but join the command’s open scrutiny of Grayson as he regains control of the meeting. Watching Grayson is second nature, again, he practically grew up doing it, but being this close he feels a frisson of something else settle into the sour pit of his gut. He can’t get over how commanding Grayson is, how beautiful, arresting with his words, his actions, and his looks, not now, not when he’s had a taste. He swallows down the thoughts because he’s a professional, but still. Something in him aches when Dick turns his attention away.

He’s just going to have to get used to it.

 

* * *

 

Achieving consensus is among the hardest challenges a leader must face. Dick had taken that and other small wisdoms from Bruce as he followed in his shadow, unsure how he could ever live up to the intergalactic leadership Bruce had ascended. During his time in the academy and the fleet, Dick finds many of Bruce’s sayings are true. Building a consensus between the current committee feels nigh impossible.

The undercurrent of tension surrounding the table isn’t helping the situation. Jason sits across from him, slumped easily in his chair, and he is nothing but the model officer treating Dick with only patience and respect. The loose camaraderie he’d hoped to explore seems very far away, and Dick is frustrated to think he’s added to the distance when all he wanted to do is close the many gaps between them. The dynamic between himself and the other officers only adds to that frustration. Gujjar and Cale are skeptics, even with the sensor readings and other available instruments that recorded their encounter. In addition to the stressful meetings, Dick’s felt a strange ache in his bones like he’s been struck by limuel yox flu. Coupled with that and the stress of pulling this final report together, Dick hasn’t been able to summon his glow in days.

“I just don’t feel comfortable with this,” Gujjar says after Dick completes the final page. “Don’t get me wrong, the modeling and concepts are clean, but everything else. It’s like we’re telling the fleet how to fight ghosts.”

Dick can sympathize with the science officer’s position. Despite Dick and Jason’s firsthand account, Gujjar and his team have very little firm data they can use to back any suggestions or recommendations. They hadn’t even been able to define the cloud’s composition. If not for the visual evidence and Jason’s sensors, they would have no record of it.

"I don't know why we can't just return to observe the cloud from a safe distance,” Cale interjects. “Surely the Andromeda will be able to pick up what the jump ship couldn’t.”

“We’ve been over this,” Dick interjects, trying to forestall another pointless debate. “The cloud’s coordinates are under quarantine.”

“We really shouldn’t have provided that as a recommendation in the preliminary. It’s setting us back almost two weeks research time.”

“It was a precaution that Captain Gordon agreed was necessary. Another ship will be dispatched from the nearest command post. Once it arrives, the Andromeda will approach the cloud. Until then, we need to complete this report.” Dick pauses, realizing his voice has started to rise.

The room falls into a terse silence.

“Permission to speak, sir?”

Dick’s glare snaps across the table landing on Jason’s quirked lips. “Yes?”

“We need a break. Maybe even pack this up for the day.”

Dick wonders for a second if Jason trying to be insubordinate? Then he looks around the room. Everyone looks drained and a little frazzled around the edges, even Jason, whose jaw tightened whenever he glanced at Dr. Cale.

Dick relents. “Let’s take twenty everyone.” The next few moments are filled with the sounds of people shifting and leaving the room. Jason is one of the last to get up, but as he’s approaching the door, Dick stands. “Lt. Todd, wait. I need to talk to you.”

Jason turns, brow furrowed as he makes his way back into the room, the doors sliding shut behind him. “Is it about the suggestion I made on page fifteen because if it is, we can go back to the original diagram.”

“No, it’s not about that, it’s about the other night,” Dick says. He’s mulled over what happened for the past few days, and he doesn’t quite know what went wrong. He’d been planning on talking to Jason about it, but he wanted to wait until after they’d figured everything out with the cloud first. “It wasn’t a mistake,” he says.

Jason raises an eyebrow. “A mistake?”

Dick shakes his head. “That’s not what I meant. What I meant was sharing a night with you wasn’t a one-time thing. Or at least I don’t want it to be.”

Jason crosses his arms. “Alright and what do you want it to be?”

Dick wavers, he hadn’t quite thought that far ahead. He hadn’t anticipated that question. “I’m...not sure.”

“Listen, I enjoyed sleeping with you, okay? But I’m not going to be your private fuck buddy. Gotham already pretends Level 5 kids don’t exist. I didn’t come onto this ship to be your bed warmer that you can ignore in public.”

“That’s not—” Dick reaches out, but it’s too late, Jason has turned away.

Dick wondering if he’s reading the situation wrong. And if maybe he needs to apologize.

 

* * *

 

The committee reconvenes over the next two days to finalize the report. Grayson does not let up during the meetings, working through every minute detail and conceivable question a reader might encounter. Under normal circumstances, Jason would approve. The information they compile will not only be incorporated into the ship’s encounter and tactical protocols, it will also be relayed to the Central Cosmic Alliance Command post. He’s also taken some satisfaction in realizing he’s going to appear on a universally read mission report. The tension filling these meetings isn’t normal.

He’d thought it’d be better after the preliminary report was complete, but it’s worse. It started with little things like constant corrections in his narrative and a strange game of musical chairs that always place Dick and Jason across from one another. Now there are near constant glares where Jason’s so sure Dick is imaging the same thing he is—Dick’s hand on his chest, his voice in his ear, the intimate connection they forged in the dark. Keeping a professional demeanor is a perpetual problem now that he knows that Dick not only didn’t think sleeping with him, he also wanted to keep Jason around as a method of stress relief. He keeps pushing himself to appear just as unaffected and focused as Dick appears, but it’s not working. Dick’s unflappable cool is starting to get to him, and he’s itching for confrontation. But he knows it’ll end with rejection again, so he’s started taking his frustrations to the training deck.

Once the combat room is secured, Jason accesses his _baika_ training regimen. He discovered the martial art by pure chance while attending an exhibition presented by the Jalurian Culture Club. It took a recognizable form of stick fighting and combined it clear offensive and defensive periods for the combatants, all while maintaining the taktak, an anti-grav ball that floated in the middle of the fight. Tapping the taktak during combinations and keeping it afloat added set bonus numbers to the point system. Watching the tall, smoky combatants spin and fly in the air had stirred him. Jason sought an instructor soon after.

He dropped his shirt across a low bench and pulled two sticks free. The training floor is covered by flat mats with some spring. Jason stretches slowly, loosening his muscles that still feel knotted after today’s four-hour committee session.

The door opened, and a dark head peeked through. “Todd, you in here?”

Jason swallowed a sigh. “I am, lieutenant. Can I help you with something?”

The door swings closed behind Dick, whose hands are clenched into a towel. His hair is damp, his body shining with sweat. Jason forces himself to look away. He twirls the sticks in his hands to begin a slow warm up.

“No. I just saw you when I was heading for the showers and wanted to say hello. You’re into _baika_?” Dick asks.

“Yep. Picked it up at the academy.” Jason continues his warm up. He flows into a slow sidekick and then sweeps down and then up at the waist in a faux dodge.

“You studied the _bem lul_ variant. I studied _bem bal nin_ , also at the academy,” Dick adds, as if Jason didn’t know that Dick led the team to the inter-planetary competition two years in a row. They won of course. Jason nearly almost dropped the martial artform once he realized it was in the purview of the Academy’s golden boy. Then he got his head out of his ass and took it as a personal challenge. Jason never tried to join the team, but damn if he didn’t study _baika_ until he could do movements in his sleep.

“That’s _so-lar_ , Dick.” Jason grunts. He’s begun to move faster, spinning the sticks in a series of blocks. He can feel Dick’s eyes studying his form, lingering on the play of muscles beneath his skin. Or perhaps he’s imagining that.

“Do you want a partner?” Dick asks, startling Jason’s concentration. He flips the stick in his left hand, tossing it under his arm and over to cover his mistake. He brings his warm up to a close, inhaling deeply and then exhaling nice and slow.

Finished, he turns to Dick at the edge of the mat, banked excitement in his smile.

“Sure, Grayson. If you think you can handle it, let’s go.”

Dick sets down his items and selects a pair of weighted sticks and the taktak. He approaches the center of the training floor and releases the taktak. It floats gently into the air. Dick begins his own warm up routine. He progresses through the sets faster than Jason, then launches into a series of spins and kicks that dominates _bem bal nin_.

“I’m ready,” Dick announces. He winks in the face of Jason’s skeptical look. “I finished my PT before you arrived. Let’s go!”

The first clash is quick and decisive. Dick follows Jason’s move sets with the fiery flow that’s expected of _bem bal nin_ and shuts down Jason’s attack at the eighteenth step. Jason goes down to one knee, on arm twisted high behind his back.

“Kruth-lo, master, I yield,” he says, voice only mildly strained. Dick releases him immediately. He rises back to his feet and works the burn from his shoulder. Dick watches him while bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet.

“I didn’t hurt you too bad, did I?” he asks, the bastard. Jason salutes him before settling into his solid stance.

“No more than usual,” he says, “But I am a worthy opponent. Bring it.”

In terms of timing and strategy, they’re evenly matched. Each clash differs, some fast and ending swiftly, others protracted with the sticks clacking fiercely as the taktak drifts between them. Dick is faster, his movements sometimes hard to follow, and when he takes to the air, Jason only wants to watch him fly. The points tally quickly, and the sticks grown slippery in Jason’s hands, but he doesn’t back down from the next clash, not when he likes hearing Dick’s voice yield to him.

Dick rises to his feet and salutes him. “That’s two in a row,” he huffs. “Starting to think you learned a little more than you let on.”

“Or maybe you just underestimated me.”

“I don’t know. I think my estimations are solid.” Dick twirls his sticks. The smooth line of muscle across his chest and arms shift and glisten in the light before Dick brings them down in a sharp, sweeping halt.

“Really?”

“I thought this might be a good way for us to get to know one another better. As equals. No misunderstandings. No mistakes. Just you and me. I think it’s going pretty well don’t you?” He tosses the taktak into the air. “Another?”

Grinning, Jason rushes forward to meet him.

Dick presses hard sending Jason back step after step. And he’s showing off, meeting and dodging Jason’s powerful strikes easily all while tapping the ball with his off stick. His grin is wicked, taunting, and Jason really wants to taste it.

He swipes at the ball and when Dick shifts into a defensive stance, darts forward. “We’re getting nowhere like this.”

“Are you saying that because I’m winning?”

Grinning, Jason cracks his sticks together than lowers them, signaling defeat. Dick has definitely won this round between them, and he doesn’t mind at all. “No. I’m saying it because we can be normal about this. Join me for dinner tonight. I want to spend time with you. Figure out the talking thing without this,” he waves at his shoulder, “dragging me down.”

He means the past, his anger, his stupidity, and maybe Dick understands because Dick brings his own flourished sticks beneath one arm and then catches the taktak. “Can it be sooner?”

Jason grins. “Let’s shower and grab something from one of the catinas on Deck 5. I’ve definitely worked up an appetite.”

They meet at the entrance to Deck 5, and after Dick reveals a craving for spicy foods, head to the Titanian catina. Conversation starts slowly, pitfalls seemingly around every topic that immediately springs to Jason’s mind. He doesn’t want to ask about Dick’s homelife on Gotham Colony, and he has no desire to detail his own sad existence there. Luckily, Dick steers polite topics as easily as he does the crew.

“You’re _baika_ training is amazing. Competitive level,” Dick says. “You said you picked it up at the academy? Where did you study and why didn’t you join the team?”

The simple questions allow Jason to launch into his experience at the Jalurian temple and Ducra, his master of the art.

“She sounds like a nightmare,” Dick says, laughing as another escapade comes to an end.

“You don’t even know. But she liked me. Even encouraged me when I tried to date her daughter.”

Dick tilts his head. “Aren’t Jalurians essentially ageless?”

“Yeah. Essence was way out of my league, but most everyone who catches my eye usually is. I have a type.” He glances at Dick from the corner of his eye. He doesn’t imagine the blush hitting Dick’s cheeks. “What about you?”

“When I was in the circus as a kid, we had a few Jalurians on board. They used to play _baika_ and I had a ton of energy, so they taught me how to play. I couldn’t really find a way to play it on the colony, but when I saw the Academy had a team, I picked it up again.”

“I still find it so hard to believe you were in a circus,” Jason says as he leans forward.

“It feels like a million lifetimes ago,” Dick looks a little distant, his voice fond, but melancholy. “But I do have a lot of stories.” From there, Dick tells Jason about a few of the adventures he went on with the rag tag group of performers and crew on Haly’s worn out vessel. “I loved exploring space with everyone,” Dick says. “Every day was a new place and new cultures. I missed it so much, but now I’m back on a ship, though it’s a much nicer one, and back out in space again.”

They talk for nearly an hour between bites of increasingly spicy leaves coated in delicate sauces. Dick isn’t at all what he expects, and Jason likes it. They cover more topics, things like Academy highlights and lowlights and their shaky starts on their respective posts after graduation. To be fair, Dick’s didn’t sound anything but pleasant, but Jason had a hard time buckling under his first TacOps commander’s thumb.

“Really? You?” Dick says, lips pursed to fight a grin. “I never would’ve imagined.”

“Laugh it up, sir.” The invitation isn’t mocking though or impatient or embarrassed. Jason feels surprisingly light with Dick’s twinkling at him. Under the soft lighting and a little drink in him to flush his tanned skin, Dick looks like he’s glowing. It’s so arresting, Dick’s next question catches him off guard.

“I do have a question that’s been eating at me. Of course, you don’t have to answer.” Dick licks the sauce from one finger before dipping them into the cleansing bowl. “Your pre-Academy records are sealed.”

“That’s not a question,” Jason says, hedging while he sorts through the feelings that simple statement evoked. “Look, if this is about the holovid. I’ll apologize as many times as I need to.” He cuts off when Dick’s hand covers his own.

“No. It’s not like we’re trading blows. I was just curious. There’s a picture of you in my mind now, but it feels incomplete. If it’s too painful to talk about though, I understand. I really, really do.”

Shame, white hot and sharp, whips up Jason’s spine. He now knows that he isn’t the only person to run fast and far from their past. “I guess I do owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Jason. But keeping the air clear between us, building on that trust, is only going to benefit us.”

Even after hearing Dick’s rousing crew platitudes and speeches, Jason feels himself not only agreeing, but also believing. He had only been joking when he called Dick the real deal. Seeing the conviction in his eyes, he can believe it. He laughs to shake off the strange feeling wrapping around his chest.

“If you want to invoke the spirit of teamwork,” Jason says.

“It is the cornerstone of any good relationship.”

Damn that little smug grin. Jason sighs.

“Fine. A long time ago, you asked me about the syndicates.” He gives Dick a thin smile as his eyes widen in understanding. “Yeah, I joined one. The Hoods. We were supposed to be something out of the storybooks. Hijacking supplies and resources from the upper levels and building new supply trade from Level 5 up. We thought we were doing good.” The fondness in Jason’s voice disappears leaving a harsh undercurrent behind. “We weren’t though. The Hoods were just pawns for the Laughing Man.”

“Shit,” Dick whispers. It’s a fitting word to describe the situation. To this day, the Laughing Man and his crew are a scourge to Gotham’s syndicate system, ruling class, and at times, Wayne Technology.

“We were there to sow chaos and disorder. The resources we were stealing didn’t make it to the people. Not even a single grain. We just went out and took. And he sold it on the black markets to other syndicates or even outside of the colony. A CA officer came to investigate the disappearance of alliance tools and weapons. I saved his life. That’s when I figured out what was going on.”

He lapses into silence as the past unfolds in his mind. He’d only been a kid, a malnourished, angry kid looking for a way to matter. If he had gone with the Hood’s creed and shot the CA officer, if he had ignored the evidence pulled from each storage bin, if he hadn’t stood before his strung together family of other orphans and misfits that fell through the cracks of the colony, would he be here now. The answer is no, no of course not. He’d probably be dead, jettisoned from the colony in the waste pods heading towards the helix sun.

Dick’s voice breaks through his maudlin thoughts. “And then.”

“The CA officer convinced me to look through the crates we had stolen. They contained weapons. Every crate, weapons. None of the food stores like we were told. The same weapons that had been used to force a Level 5 squat from their home. I told everyone. I just couldn’t let us be used like that. I managed to convince most of the Hoods the same. The ones that didn’t want to do the right thing, well. I taught them a lesson.

“Is that why your records are sealed?”

“I’m honestly not sure. Old Man Queen probably did it. He said I could either serve my time with the others or have a commuted sentence that I’d serve later.” Jason’s gaze flipped towards the window where the stars passed by slowly. “After I failed out or retired from the Cosmic Alliance.”

Dick blinked. “Admiral Queen? Offered you a deal?”

“He did. Probably knew I was too stupid not to take it,” Jason says with a little laugh. “I was barely sixteen cycles. I agreed, thinking I’d figure a way out before I even set foot at the Academy. But Queen was insistent. Said I reminded him of his son. Said he didn’t want to fail another boy who needed him.” Those words, said so soft and bittersweet, haunted Jason all the way through his qualifiers, basic and the Academy. They still do.

“I wasn’t expecting that.” Dick’s brow furrows thoughtfully. His expression soon clears, and he levels a razor like look at Jason, so sharp he can feel pieces of him being sliced away. “I don’t think it was a handout,” he announces.

It’s the second time in an hour Jason’s been surprised. “What?”

“What Queen did for you. I don’t consider it a handout, just like I don’t consider Bruce taking me in to be a handout. Sometimes people in powerful positions reach out to help someone. They don’t always succeed, they don’t always make the right choices to see it through, but the opportunity to live a new life is a gift, Jason. At least that’s not how I see it. Everything else, yes, I hated it. I still do. But I’m here now. Can’t hate that. And neither should you.”

Jason can only stare partly awed and partly terrified with how easily Dick pinned this issue to him and on him. He folds their fingers together and squeezes Dick’s hand gently.

“I will take your wisdom as a recommendation, sir,” he says, lowly.

“I’m serious,” Dick says.

“Oh, I am too, sir. I am too.” Jason lifts the back of Dick’s hand to his lips. The skin is soft, the scent sweet, and Dick doesn’t pull away.

Finally, he broaches the subject that’s been weighing on his mind for this entire week.

“Look, Dick. The other night at the bar. I think we were talking past each other instead of at each other. Here’s what I wanted to say: I like you. I see things in you that make me want to be better. Better at my job, at life, with you. I want a chance. And I think you want one with me too. If there’s something holding you back, let it go.”

Dick’s soft mouth opens slightly and his tongue darts out to wet his lips, Jason can’t look away. He can’t push the thoughts of how he wants to ravish that mouth with his own out of his head.

Using their clasped hands, he tugs Dick and his seat to Jason’s side of the table and leans in so close his intention could not be misconstrued. Dick’s bright eyes search his before dipping down to his mouth, which is good. Jason would hate to be the only one thinking about the perfect way to end this moment.

“Permission to proceed, sir,” he says softly, lightly. It kicks the corner of Dick’s soft lips into a smile.

“Permission granted.”

The fury and desperate need that collided in their first kiss pales in comparison to this slow desire welling up between them. Dick moans softly, lips yielding to Jason’s gentle pressure, melting open with a sigh. Fingertips quest along his jaw and the shell of his ear, and Jason allows his freehand to roam over the placed he’d barely touched before. The elegant lines of Dick’s neck, the strength of his shoulders, the soft swell of his pectorals expanding as he draws a deep breath. Jason ends the kiss, but they’re still close, clutching one another, sharing breath.

“Come back to my quarters tonight, Dick.” He nips at Dick’s soft lips, drawing a low moan. “Please. I can’t stop thinking about you.”

“Jason.” Dick’s breathy response is cut short by an alert chirp from his com unit. Seconds later, Jason’s own comm unit come through.

“Lt. Grayson. Please report to Command Center Section 2 for an emergent mission briefing.” A similar message sounds off for Jason.

Dick sighs. “We’ll continue this conversation later.”


	9. Chapter 9

 

“Alright everyone,” Gordon says from where he’s standing at the head of the holovid table in the conference room. “We continued probing the quadrant where the graviton cloud originated, and we found reason to investigate further.” He turns on the holovid. “There are three moons in the quadrant, and we’re seeing energy spikes but no signs of life or activity. Three jump ships will be deployed to investigate and collect samples. With your efforts, we can properly alert the Cosmic Alliance of this sector of space.”

“Grayson, you’ll be going with a crew to moon 30136-A. In keeping with your recommendation of continuing to forge your relationship, I am assigning Lt. Todd to be your tactical officer.”

“Yes sir,” Dick says with a nod, Jason echoing his statement. Dick glances over to look at Jason as Gordon reads out the rest of the assignments. Being in close quarters on a mission may be just what they need to keep bonding.

“Now,” Gordon clears his throat and Dick returns his attention to the front of the room. “We’ve noticed that the cloud has continued expanding based on the rate you can see here,” Gordon adjusts the holovid. “We’ve projected the following rates of expansion on the cloud, which is well outside of each of the moons orbit by 12 GUs. The Andromeda will remain at the quadrants edge as directed and continue to await the arrival of the Carina.

“Normally I wouldn’t advise this but based on the previous mission and the unknown state of the cloud, you are to catalogue any and all signals that originate from this sector. Do not engage. We were lucky enough to escape the cloud the first time. I don’t want to risk it again. A full report and mission briefings will be sent to all of you with more details. Dismissed.”

 

* * *

 

It feels like the amount of time they’re on the Andromeda is painfully short before they’re boarding the jump ship and heading towards a sector that housed the graviton cloud. Both Dick and Jason are cautious about getting close to the cloud again, and the crew, composed of members from the previous team as well as two additions to the TacOps team increases the tension on the ship. But after the previous mission, Dick knows it’s nothing they can’t handle.

What Dick can’t handle is the longing he feels for Jason after the kiss they shared. He wants nothing more than to pull Jason into his quarters to feel their bodies come together again, but there’s no time. Jason is been busy with clerical work and making sure the jump ship is up to standards in case there’s another incident. Dick is busy with captain’s logs as well as follow ups on Jason’s incident report to assure the captains on the Andromeda that the incident on their previous mission was a one-time thing. Dick’s reviewing his notes on Jason’s character and behavior on the bridge when he realizes that he’s developed a fondness for Jason. At first, they clashed, but Jason is fiercely intelligent, protective of those he cares about, and he’s not afraid to speak up if he’s got an insight. He enjoys Jason’s presence on the bridge, but he longs to be closer.

Dick misses Jason’s presence most late at night when he rolls over in bed and the sheets are cold and empty. He’s been in relationships before, but he never expected Jason to linger with such intensity.

“Approaching Moon Colony L-A9346,” the navigator announces. “No indications of sentient life and no hostile weather conditions are present. Should I proceed with the landing?”

“What are the readings on the graviton cloud?” Dick asks, already pulling it up on his system.

Jason’s hands sketch over the tactical console before replying. “The cloud maintains the projected rate of expansion and remains well outside the designated safe zone.”

The safe zone has been measured at seven galactic units. It would take the cloud nearly four days to reach their position. Their mission time is limited to twelve hours.

“Understood,” Dick says. “Lt. Todd, based on the previous incident with the cloud, what are your recommendations?”

“Unless we camp here for a few weeks, the cloud shouldn’t pose as a threat,” Jason says. “I recommend proceeding with the landing.”

“I agree,” Dick nods. “Danvers, prep the ship for landing. B’dep and Rayner, continue to monitor the outrider sensors. If anything changes, alert the crew at once. Lt. Todd, Brown, and Craul, time to suit up.”

It wasn’t a hard decision to bring Jason down to the moons with him. Jason was one of the top in their class in hand-to-hand combat and weapons training, if something happens, the two of them will have each other’s backs. The field team make their way down to the airlock where they’re fitted with their encounter suits. Two additional science officers, Grant and Cheylenov, join them, carrying a large case for samples.

The suits are a metallic grey, loose when they’re first pulled on. With the press of a button they tighten to the body. Despite the material being tight and thin, it’s protected with a nanotechnology that’s harder than diamond. Dick can’t help but notice the way the suit clings to Jason’s body, from his thighs to his broad shoulders and chest. He catches Jason looking at him and when their eyes meet Jason covers up the flush on his face by pulling on his helmet.

Dick puts his helmet on and checks the controls as it connects to his suit. The encounter HUD powers up with a pleasant tone. A small series of data windows and monitoring nodes overlay the thin screen. Dick quickly customizes the nodes until atmospheric conditions, time/distance, and proximity remain active. The rest he can bring on with the flick of the finger.

“Testing communicator,” he says, watching the screen light up and take inventory of the room around him. It gives him the temperature, time, atmospheric pressure, and radiation readings. A tap of a button on his wrist and the screen switches to show Dick’s body readings as well as the readings of his crew.

“Communication received,” Jason says. “Testing one on one communication to captain.”

“Received.” Dick says. “Testing one on one communication to Security Officer.”

“Received.” Jason taps a few buttons on his wrist.

“Bridge to ground crew, ship landing in 1 minute.”

“Received,” Dick says. “Ground crew, buckle up in case the landing is rough.” They settle into harnesses on the sides of the airlock as the ship lands, a loud rumbling noise. The shaking is minimal, and Dick makes a note to add that to the report. It’s little things like smooth landings that can lead to promotion of crew. As the captain of the jump ship, Dick wants his crew to benefit from their expeditions as much as possible.

“Opening airlock,” Caule says. A hiss fills their ears as air escapes the chamber. “Introducing lunar atmosphere to the airlock.”

Dick and his field team stay strapped in. Protocol after an incident several years ago where a crew was sucked out of a ship into dangerous terrain after a landing.

“Airlock opening.”

The doors open with a hiss, slowly revealing the surface of the small moon they’ve landed on. The crew decouple themselves from the drop ship, and after confirming their perimeter readings, step onto the new moon.

A quick glance tells Dick that the Andromeda’s sensors had been very wrong. There is life on this planet, although it takes a strange form. Dick steps out of the small cabin first. His feet sink into a soft, brilliant impossibility.

“Lieutenant to ship. I want a full visual and spectrum analysis. Are there any forms of life other than the field team at the landing site?”

A pause, then, “No lieutenant. Analysis confirms the moon is uninhabited by life. We read vital signs of the field crew.”

Dick steps forward. “And our suit recordings. Access and run view screen.”

A small picture appears at the edge of his HUD showing a dark gray landscape devoid of life.

“Seven suns,” Brown whispers. “There’s nothing there.”

Dick turns. “You guys don’t see this?”

Jason halts at his shoulder. “We do sir. And it’s amazing.”

All around them, from the top of distant hills to the winding stone path before them, is plant life. They’re hazy, shimmery things, just visible to the naked eye and almost crystalline in their translucence. Yet they exhibit the typical signs of planet life, having leaves with faint veins splitting through the leaves. The flowers bob gently in the dry winds. Another step onto the abandoned moon and Dick can see the plant life varies.

Tamping down his wonder, Dick sweeps his finger through the air to bring up his menu. With the appropriate node selected, Dick tilts his head to gather readings.

“This is Lt. Grayson, reporting that there appears to be non-sentient organisms on the planet resembling plants. We’re going to need to run a sanitation cycle in the air lock before returning. Requesting that the science crew refrain from investigating samples before we return to the Andromeda to avoid any incidents.”

“Understood,” the science officers report.

“Lt. Grayson to ship.”

Danvers voice filters into his ear. “Lieutenant.”

“The other jump ships should have field teams in place. Contact the ships and compare their initial findings to our own.”

“Yessir.”

Dick turns back to the field team. “We are now assuming encounter protocols. Grant and Cheylenov, record and test only. We’ll attempt samples once we figure out if the plant life poses a threat. Brown, you will support the science officers. Craul will remain as point at the landing site. Second Lt. Todd and I will investigate the surface with radiometers and scope for any signs of civilization. And team, we stay on the path observe only, no interactions.”

He waits for everyone to affirm before he undoes his harness, waiting for his suit to acclimate him to the atmosphere before he starts walking. Grant and Cheylenov stop at the first sight of plants they see while Dick and Jason make their way further out onto the planet. The further they progress, the thicker and more diverse the plant life becomes.

This moon looks like a giant untamed garden with flowering vines, bushes containing what look like fruits, and leaf like structures on the ground. There’s something familiar about the whole thing, and not just because his home in Gotham had among the rarest gardens in Level 1. He walks carefully and has the jump ship perform another scan to see if there’s any kind of life aside from the plants. Nothing comes up, and so far, he and Jason don’t detect any anomalies.

The planetoid the moon orbits is high overhead, casting deep shadows edging closer to the landing site. As the shadow passes over, the plant life wavers and disappears.

“Lieutenant.”

“Go ahead, Brown.”

“Sir, have you attempted to contact the plants?”

Dick grins. “I’ve been knocking quite politely at their door, but no one’s answering.” There’s a small chuff of laughter behind him.

“Nice one, sir,” comes Brown’s dry reply. “The science team has completed their initial tests and the results are strange.”

“I’ll take the initial report.”

Cheylenov slides into the conversation, voice clearly puzzled. “Sir, our instruments are unable to locate the plant life. There is no biosignature to scan. It’s as if the plants truly don’t exist.”

“Grant and I can confirm this, sir,” Brown chimes. “I’ve observed them try everything under the bright sun, and nothing comes up. And sir, when I tried poking one. Well, there was nothing there.”

Jason’s deep voice curls against Dick’s ear. “That sounds like interaction to me, Brown.”

“It was an accidental poking. They happen you know.”

“It’s something I’m familiar with, sure,” Jason replies.

“Lieutenant?” Danvers breaks into the conversation. “We’ve received word from the other jump ships. While Team 7181 observed a strange flash when the drop ship doors first opened, they report no signs of life. Both teams report a barren landscape without flora, fauna, or water.”

“Thank you, Danvers. The field team will continue to collect as much data as we can. We will continue with encounter protocols. Accidental poking is now allowed though.”

He receives a few chuckles at that. Dick joins Jason at the top of hill. The path branches off and there are miles and miles of glimmering plant life spreading before them. Jason stoops down next to a small spray of leaves.

“Well, I’m not sure if this is going to help because the cameras aren’t capturing any data but. Field team log of an accidental poking,” he begins. “Second observer, Lt. Grayson, field leader.”

Both Jason and Dick provide their identification before Jason reaches out with his index finger. It slides right through the fan of leaves, back and forth.

“I feel nothing, Grayson. There really is nothing there.”

“But if it were a hologram or simulation, we’d be able to pick up the source generating the program,” Dick says. “And we can see it with our own eyes.”

“Maybe it’s a mirage? A localized and collective mirage,” Jason offers. “No, seriously. With the visible light and the heat conditions, it’s possible.”

Dick looks up the atmosphere of the planet and then switches to look at temperature and humidity. “These conditions would make this area a giant greenhouse,” Dick says. “If the plants were real, I’d say we’re this might be a self-sustaining biome.”

“Lt. Grayson,” Jason says as Dick stoops down to look at a plant that resembles an old earth lily. He scans it with the radiometer but nothing comes up.

“I don’t know if these organisms are photosynthetic, but they appear to be plant like. I wonder if they have similar cell and reproductive structures.” He goes over to another bush and realizes all the plants are. “It’s like they’re not here,” he whispers to himself.

He reaches out towards the flowering outline, expecting to pass through the plant. He gasps when his hand collides with the leaf. Dick cups it gently, thumb moving along the lateral veins that spider across the smooth surface, and the leaf shifts, turning opaque under his fingertips. Small blue buds bloom into flowers with pink centers and anthers that revolve around the center.

“Dick,” Jason repeats.

Dick straightens in response to his first name. “What?” he asks as he turns to look at Jason.

“Grant and Cheylenov can’t get any readings on the life forms here. They’ve been trying to reach you, but your communicator was static.”

“Oh,” Dick straightens. He taps into his communicator and listens to the updated report. “Keep looking to see if you can collect anything,” Dick says. “Lt. Todd and I will keep exploring.”

Jason comes up to his side and tries to touch one of the plants, hand moving through it as if it isn’t there. Dick reaches out and it comes to life under his hand, color going from pale violet into saturated purple that shimmers in the light and transitions into green leaves.

“What is happening?” Jason asks. He reaches out again, fingers brushing the plant, which is now real under his fingertips. “Is anyone else seeing this?”

Dick looks down and realizes that the plants are coming into existence under his feet, turning from shimmering illusions into real things. What was a light iridescent shimmer before turns into glowing colors. A vine wraps around Dick’s wrist and he tugs his hand away. Something inside him whispers that he should keep going.

He takes a step forward, Jason hot on his heels.

“Dick, what are you doing? Are you insane? We need to get back to the ship right now!” Jason reaches out to grab him, but his hand moves through Dick’s arm. Dick looks up at him and Jason’s eyes are wide. “Dick, we need to get off this planet.” His voice is low with an undercurrent of something that shakes.

“Not yet,” Dick says.

“Dick, this is dangerous. I’m speaking to you as a tactical officer here saying we need to get off this planet and assess this phenomenon from a safe distance.” He reaches out again but doesn’t make contact. On the third attempt, Jason makes contact. It jolts through Dick like a mild, pleasurable shock.

“And I’m leading this mission,” Dick says. “We’ve been on the planet for nearly two hours, Jason. I see no immediate threat. We’ll continue to gather samples and explore these lifeforms.”

“I’m putting it on the record between us that I disagree,” Jason says.

“Message received, Lt. Todd,” Dick says as he turns and keeps moving forward, unaware that his pace has quickened as he climbs the next hill, Jason dogging his steps.

As they walk, the plants lean towards Dick, blooming brighter when he passes. Some even wrap themselves around his arms and ankles, but they’re easily dislodged with a slight pull. Dick stops when he sees something rising up in the middle of the path. He steps closer, pushing some of the plants away, watching as they come to life under his touch. The plants recede revealing a stone fountain. Something that looks like water starts flowing, but when Dick approaches, he realizes that it’s more of an illusion and it doesn’t become corporeal when he touches it. The “water” sparkles in the light and makes a soft tinkling noise, like water pouring over delicate pieces of silver.

“What the fuck?” he hears Jason’s whisper.

“I think this might the remains of an ancient settlement,” Dick says as he crouches down to look at the engravings on the fountain. Lots of flowers and stars. It reminds Dick of archaic stories about beings on old earth that went by strange names and had magic. He straightens as the vines pull away, revealing a path. As he walks through it, Jason close behind him, the vines reach out and brush against them.

“Lt. Grayson, the vines are following you.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“And you don’t seem concerned.”

Dick glances over his shoulder. “I’ve always had a way with plants. And we will return to the landing zone after we explore this area. This is tangible proof that some civilization existed here.”

“If this planet is a giant tentacle beast that wants to have sex with you, I’m going to be so pissed,” Jason mumbles.

“You’re just jealous,” Dick replies, a grin on his face.

“I’m not surprised the viney tentacle beast wants to fuck you,” Jason says. “I’m just glad it’s not me.”

“So, you are jealous?” Dick peeks over his shoulder.

“We’re working Dick, don’t think your weird plant planet fetish is going to distract me from the fact that I want to get out of here.”

As they walk through the paths, the plants continue coming to life around them, blooming in bright colors, shifting to be closer to Dick, and making a path for them to follow. Dick stops a few times along the path to look at other broken stone structures. There are columns, benches, and even a section that has small colored stones embedded into a larger portion of white stone. Jason makes his discomfort clear throughout the entire process and Dick tunes him out. The science officers update him on their own discoveries when the plants near them come to life as well.

After a long stretch of time and lots of nudging from the plants, they reach a large, domed structure covered in plants. It reminds him of the intricate gazebos in quiet gardens where he’d spent nights staring out at the stars over the Gotham Colony during events. The vines covering the structure almost make it look like a wrapped present, waiting to be opened. Dick reaches out and touches them and they peel back slowly revealing a stone structure.

Inside it is a large flower bud, taller than Dick and Jason combined, and twice the span of Dick’s arms. It glimmers translucent like the plants had been before Dick had touched them before.

There’s something in the back of Dick’s mind urging him to reach out and feel the blossom under his fingertips. The blossom shimmers in the air like it might vanish if Dick waits too long. Dick can see hints of violet, red, and emerald green in the leaves and petals, tightly wrapped, waiting to be freed like the rest of the plants.

He takes a step forward, hand reaching out, but Jason’s voice stops him.

“Dick, I’m going to stop you right here. The rest of the plants were small, but this one is big. We don’t know what’s inside or how dangerous it is. Everything on this planet has been a red flag so far, if you touch this thing, you could fuck us all over. This moon has been asleep for a long time, we have no business waking it up. This is also a breach of protocols 223-226, 945, 947, 950, 1062, and so many more. Stop and think for two seconds.”

There are other protocols Dick could cite: 932, FJ7001, and 01-001, the initial rule dealing with first contact. Dick knows that it’s dangerous to touch the plant, but there’s something in the back of his mind that tells him it’s okay. It’s a soothing presence that reminds him of his mother. It’s quiet and reassuring. It’s safe.

This feeling is like home.

The vines underneath his feet shift and Dick is nudged forward enough for his fingertips to brush the blossom. He hears something like a sigh as the petals and leaves open, revealing a ruby red flower, and from within that flower, a light begins to grow.

It starts small, no bigger than the glimmer of a distant star. It calls for Dick, a murmur just of his name from just around the corner, a strange sighing that is soft but also great like a wind funnel. As Dick catalogs the changes in the air, the sounds in his ears, the light grows. It spills upwards, slow, puddling light desperate to touch the sky. Dick’s not sure how he knows this, but he does, like he knew to touch the plants, like he knows his mother’s voice. He reaches his hand upwards, to guide the light where it must go. No, where it must grow.

“Light is life,” he whispers, and he shakes the glove from his hand. His palm hits the drooping fountain of light and then all hell breaks loose.

The light bursts up in a grand wave, a blinding flash that swallows the area. Dick moans softly. The light calls to him, it runs through him. He can feel it shining through him.

Jason shouts ricochet through the room. “Grayson! What the hell have you done?”


	10. Chapter 10

 

Dick ignores Jason’s protests as he reaches up, unlatching his helmet with a hiss. It drops to the ground, rolling to a stop, forgotten.

The air fills his lungs, a sweetly floral scent burning through him. Faintly, he hears curses, a voice calling for him, and he knows he should answer, but there’s something inside him that’s louder. He must go on. He must.

Dick steps forward, bathed in the light, feeling like he’s too much for his body, like there’s so much within him and yet there’s not enough to contain it all.

A hum fills the air. The whine of a crystal, the shattering of light. Like the growing green heat that consumes him, the humming wraps around Dick and begs him to come closer, to be seen. He’s being welcome. One step further and he’s there.

Yes. He can see it now, the figure inside, or that’s what Dick’s mind tells him at least. The light rises higher still, spearing through the dome, hot and glorious. The bands radiate outwards, pulsing like a heartbeat, soothing. Dick presses a hand to his chest and feels the same rhythm. The pulsing shivers and closes inwards towards the source of the light, which wavers and coalesce in front of his eyes, lowly transforming into a recognizable form of a humanoid female standing twice his height. He looks up and finds the curve of one hip, gently swelling breasts, and the spectrum of reds overlapping to create a mouth.

She’s beautiful, this giant woman made of life. Bright red hair that trails behind her like the tail of a comet, her skin is pale green like so many of the flowers around her, and her face is serene as it looks down at him. She is beautiful, and she is terrifying, and still she grows in another burst, becoming clearer, more real.

It flashes so bright that it leaves spots in his vision, and then it concentrates down until it’s a glowing figure. Deep down he knows this woman, knows that she glows deeply, inside out, sustaining life within her smile. It reminds him of his mother and the way she smiled when she told him stories. Her mouth opens slowly, petal red and shining teeth, and then she begins to speak.

Dick staggers at the flower’s base as a powerful hum fills the air. The sound increases in intensity and pitch. The weight of it crashes over Dick. He drops to his knees, and the plants surrounding him tremble and unfurl. Like the others, they become real again. Still, his eyes are only for the figure inside of and is the beam of light.

She reaches for him, long fingers trailing warming over his skin. One touch and the humming crystallizes into a note so perfect, he could cry. One touch and he understands. She’s speaking to him.

“Hello little one,” she whispers as she cups his cheeks in her soft hands. Even though she looks human, she’s still so bright, small rainbows dancing inside her.

“Hello,” Dick whispers. He’s again stricken by how beautiful she is and the soft green glow shimmering beneath her skin. “Who are you? What are you?”

She laughs, and the sound rattles the stone roof. “Who are _you_?” She says in return. “What are _you_? These are the questions you must answer, strange intruders who walk into my garden.”

Dick swallows thickly. “I,” he begins, and the woman opens her petal red mouth and speaks with him, twining her crystal voice with his own. “I am a Transcendent.”

Their voices echo in the room, a fierce swelling joy. Dust falls from the ceiling. The ground trembles.

“Oh yes,” she breathes. “Oh yes, we are Transcendent. But you. You are quite peculiar, aren’t you?” She lifts his chin up and looks over him. “One of us but also something else. You still shine like a star within. Though something has dimmed it.”

“I am a Transcendent,” Dick repeats, and it feels right, just as it had the first time. But still, the doubt remains, a thousand worries and curiosities that can only be expressed in the simplest question of which all of Bruce’s money could never answer, not fully. “But what does it mean?”

She draws back, and only then does Dick realize how close they had become, their faces close as mirrors. Her light bleeds from his skin and back into her as she stands tall once more.

“What does it mean? Oh, my little one, it means _everything_.”

He draws in an expectant breath as her hand reaches towards him again. The air is thick with anticipation of her touch. It is white hot and comes with an explosion of pure, pulsing radiance and in its burning, starlit fire, Dick becomes. He is light moving through the vast reaches of space. He shutters and runs, he soars. His will is limitless and his power infinite. The universe unfolds before him, a map of the world far too immense to understand but Dick does. He sees the path forged at the beginning, birthed in brilliance, life given in a burst of pure light. There is no place he cannot go, no time in which he cannot be.

He is Transcendent.

Tears slide down his cheeks. The vision fades, and he floats back into the shell that contains glow. “Thank you,” he whispers. “Thank you.”

“We are what we are, little light.” She presses a kiss to his forehead. It feels like he’s being drenched in sunlight, surrounded by his mother’s warmest hugs, and every happy memory he’s ever felt. “I will share my light with you, so you can share your own with someone else one day.”

Radiant energy infuses him. Dick moans quietly as it swirls through him, wrapping along his veins and lighting his insides. He can almost see the path, green light touching blue beneath his skin. But then it ends. A twisted, shrunken hole stands in the way and it hungers for the light so fiercely it hurts. Dick curls in pain.

“Please,” Dick gasps. “Make it stop.”

In the distance, he hears a shout. His name again, and it helps. It helps. He breathes in, steadied, and the light barrels forward, skimming the broken pieces, fusing it together, and he can breathe again. The light recedes from his body.

“They found you. They come.” She releases Dick and he falls backwards as if every string holding his body upright has been cut. The loss of her light is that deadening, even as his own churns within. He collapses, but not to the cold floor. Jason’s arms catch him. He recognizes their strength closing around him.

“Grayson. Dick. Fuck.” Jason’s curse is buried in fear. “Are you alright?”

Dick tries to nod, to reassure him, but he can’t move. He can barely keep his eyes open. The pain has faded, and light fills him. He feels warm and alive. The light is life.

“What the hell did you do to him?”

“They tried to steal his birthright, for it is what sustains them. I gave it back.” She smiles at Jason, terrifying and proud.

She steps down from her dais. Behind her, the flower topples with a crash that sends dusty wind towards Jason. Dick shivers but cannot cough. Her red lips part.

“You need not worry, fierce protector. Your intended is not harmed, and neither are you. You must leave this place as must I, for the end is near. And I’ve been alone here for ages resting, waiting. Yes, it is time.” She lifts her hands, and the green light extends again, stretching up through the dome like a beacon. She rises higher, legs lengthening, wavering, disappearing into an expanding radiance that fills the entire room until there is nothing but pure, brilliant light.

“The end has no end, little one. Remember this well and guard the light, yours and the one you share it with.”

Then with another bright flash, the light disappears. Dick blinks slowly, head lifting.

“Oh. My eyes,” Brown gasps through the comm link. “What in the seven suns was that?”

The figure is gone. The rest of the small moon feels dim in comparison. Dick and Jason slump against one another at the base of the drop ship. The other field team members stare into the sky, blinking rapidly.

Jason grabs him and drags them both to their feet. After securing Dick, he goes to the other crewmen who are complaining about their vision. “I want each crewman to report their status. Now.”

While Brown begins a halting account of the flowers flashing into existence and Grant providing the sample collection process before their translocation back to the ship, Dick takes stock of his own self. The encounter suit reads that his vitals are clear. Dick certainly feels better than he has since their encounter with the graviton cloud.

The warmth still lingers on Dick’s skin but it doesn’t take very long for him to realize how many mistakes he’s just made. He’s broken so many rules by touching things, freeing the being, and by taking his helmet off. He takes a deep breath, surprised he can even breathe in the atmosphere of the moon. He glances at the rest of the field team fully encased in their suits. When did he even take his helmet off?

“Is it just me, or does everything have this strange halo effect,” Dick calls, staring at the plants, which are real now, all of them, but still filled with breathtaking light.

“Yessir,” Grant says. “Feel like I’ve been staring at the sun too long. Everything’s warped, spotty. But it’s fading.”

“Me too,” Brown adds. “I can barely look at you, Lt. Grayson.”

Frowning, Dick looks down at his hands, which are covered with gloves. “What’s wrong.”

Jason stomps over and shoves Dick’s helmet at his chest. “Put this on, sir. You’re glowing.”

“We’re going back to the jump ship. Right now.” He turns away and Dick puts the helmet back on, following behind Jason. “Brown, Grant, Cheylenov, Craul, strap in. We’re returning to the ship.”

“Understood,” Cheylenov says. “We don’t know what happened, the plants weren’t here and now they are. This could be a huge discovery Lt. Todd. Are you sure we can’t collect samples for a few more hours?”

“No,” Jason says. “Based on this moon’s bizarre behavior, we should’ve left this place two hours ago. Make sure your samples are sealed. Grayson and I will be working on a report.”

Dick and Jason step back into the airlock where the sanitation begins. The process is thorough, taking the better part of an hour, and when it’s done, Jason storms back onto the ship. Dick goes back to the captain’s quarters and Jason follows him in. As soon as the door is shut, Jason turns and punches the wall.

“Are you out of your fucking mind? What was that Grayson? What the fuck happened out there? Do you know how many protocols you just broke? If word of this gets out to anyone, both of our asses are getting dishonorable discharges and sent to a prison colony. Do you even know what type of being that was? You could have just screwed over the universe by setting that unknown alien fucking thing free. For all we know, she’s going out right now to destroy all living things in the universe.” Jason paces across the room as he rants. “Not to mention I couldn’t touch you and now you’re fucking _glowing_ again and-”

“She’s not some unknown alien thing,” Dick says, staring down at his hands. He had stopped sometime between the atmosphere and docking the ship. Now, the usual muted blue glow is blazing. He tries calling it back within him, calming himself, but it barely causes a flicker.

“Damnit. I can’t control it.”

“Excuse me?” Jason turns back towards him. “What do you mean you can’t control it? And did you know what that thing was?”

After a moment of fierce concentration, the glow dissipates, and the room becomes dark. Dick turns the cabin light on, not realizing they’ve been off this entire time.

“I think so,” Dick replies, a smile touching his lips. “She is a Transcendent.”

“And what the hell is that?”

“Beings of pure light that can take on corporeal forms.”

Jason frowns. “That doesn’t sound like any civilizations in the Alliance.”

“That’s because they’re not. They’re like nothing we could ever imagine.”

Bruce had put the full weight of his money and name into quietly amassing all the information regarding the Transcendent race. What returned to him had been very little. Mostly, he received stories and rumors.

Some said the Transcendents were the beings known as Precursors in Galadorian and Aaraam lore, a race that emerged at the beginning of time. Others said the race was slowly being hunted throughout across dimensions and throughout the Outer Rim because of their regenerative powers that can be shared with a host. Finding these so called Transcendents had proved impossible. Their appearance in the CA databases were minimal, taking the form of people like Dick, direct descendants who maintained a trace of Transcendent genes. Dick is half Transcendent.

And even though it always mattered to him, being his mother’s child, today is the first time it meant something.

“If they’re so powerful, how come we’re not trying to forge an Alliance with them? I mean, fuck, Dick. She teleported us back to the ship in an instant, us and Brown and the rest.” He shifts excitedly in his seat. “There’s so much they could teach us.”

“I don’t know,” Dick confesses. “They exist between dimensions and planes of space and they’re just kind of...neutral beings that see no other purpose than to exist. Spatialpolitical issue means nothing in the face of that power.”

“And how do you know that?” Jason asks slowly, voice low.

“I read it in one of the captains’ guidebooks,” Dick says.

Jason doesn’t look convinced, but he just shakes his head. “Fine, I’m going to pretend I believe that huge fucking lie. Instead I’m going to ask about how we’re going to report this.”

“I don’t know,” Dick leans against the table and runs a hand through his hair.

“Well, you probably need to think of something,” Jason says. “I don’t think you want the Alliance to know you can communicate fluently with light beams.” He meets Dick’s surprised gaze with a steely look.

“How?”

“When I touched you. When you collapsed in my arms, I could understand her and you. Before that,” he scrubs a hand through his hair. “I don’t know how to describe it.” He stops and spears Dick with another gaze. “Do you remember the City Chimes?”

Dick nods. The festival had always been one of unity, or so he’d been taught. A time when the all the people of Gotham Colony could stand together as one, the same chime of the crystal bells, the same time, the same sounds, the same people. His first year he’d cried because—

“They always reminded me of when my mother sang to me.”

Jason nods slowly. “It’s not the same, not really, but that’s what you sounded like together. You spoke to her?”

“I did. She showed me things. It was like I could see what she sees, know what she knows. And what I saw was the universe.” Dick hears the breathless wonder in his own voice, and flushes, but Jason leans closer, rapt. “She, they, we see it like a navigational chart or a map. The pathways are there, and we can go anywhere at any time faster than light. Faster than thought. There are so many glorious places to explore beyond what the Alliance knows. Across dimensions, through time. And, she knew that I could join them.

“I’d find my place among the stars.”

Jason breaks the silence with a murmur. “Yeah. I’m not sure what to say in the report, but I think we should leave that part out. As for the glow, I have no idea what the fuck we’re going to do about that.”

“How bad is it?” Dick asks.

“Take a look for yourself,” Jason says. “You know where the fucking mirror is.”

Dick stands up and goes to the mirror. Jason was right about the glow. It’s bright, not something he can just brush off as a trick of the light or a problem with his crewmates’ eyes. If Dick were to turn off the light in his quarters, his glow would still illuminate the space. He curses and sits on his bed, putting his head in his hands.

“I’ll never be able to get this past Gordon,” Dick says. “Let alone our own crew. How am I supposed to lead a ship if I can’t even show my damn face because I can’t turn off my stupid glow.”

“The reaction you get won’t be much different than now, trust me. I mean, haven’t you always looked inhumanly different?” It’s more of a statement than a question.

Dick looks up. “By CA standards, I’m human.”

“CA guidelines state that someone more than one fourth alien can list themselves as human so long as they complete medical tests and disclose as much information as possible to the CA for their file. That leaves a lot of wiggle room, Dick. Even B’dep is human by CA standards and his skin is purple.”

Dick flops back against the bed. “Do you remember on Gotham, when we were kids, they were trying to make it harder for people to pass as human? They wanted to follow old earth’s 1/64th rule and make it so anyone with more alien relatives had to disclose it and couldn’t list themselves as human. Some really crazy level ones were fighting to make it even lower than earth’s rule. I met one lady that wanted it to be 1/128, can you believe that? Most of Gotham wouldn’t be considered human by those standards.

“You know I always wondered what would happen if someone had multiple alien lineages. It happens, right? How would they list that? Would you have to choose one? Would they use the one that’s more prominent genetically?”

Jason sits down next to him. “It’s rare that I say a good thing about Level Five, but one nice thing about it was that it didn’t matter if you had alien lineage or not down there. If I imagine a shitty hand of cards and you imagine one, we’ll probably imagine different cards. That’s the thing about Level Five. No one cared what cards you had, a shit hand is a shit hand. We all had one.”

“Is this your way of saying you don’t care?”

“I guess, yeah,” Jason says. “You’re proven that you’re capable of leading. The CA has bigger fish to fry than one of their best Lieutenants being part peaceful glowy alien.”

“Peaceful glowy alien,” Dick repeats. “That’s one way to put it.”

“What do you want me to say?” Jason asks. “Ethereal being made of the finest stardust and cosmic light? The child of a star and the heavens?”

Dick blushes. “Do you really think that?”

Jason scoffs. “Dick, you’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen. I could think of thousands of ways to describe how gorgeous you are, but none of them would even come close.”

A lot of people have told Dick he’s beautiful, more than he can count. No one has ever said it the way Jason has though. There’s something about the softness in Jason’s tone as he admits Dick is the most beautiful thing he’s seen.

“You’re handsome too,” Dick says.

“No,” Jason shakes his head. “You don’t have to say that. You don’t have to make up some kind of compliment about me because I complimented you.”

“But you are,” Dick says as he sits up. “I like your jaw.” He traces it with his finger. “I like your eyes,” he grins when he sees Jason’s raised eyebrow. He presses a kiss there. “And there’s something about your hair.…”

“My hair?” Jason asks. “Now you’re grasping for straws, Grayson.”

“You’re handsome in a world where everyone is pretty,” Dick says. “Like old earth models that they used to plaster on the sides of buildings. Like an athlete. You’ve never had anything done to you, and you probably don’t plan on it, but you’re also whip smart and kind to the people that deserve it.”

It’s Jason’s turn to blush now. “We need to start working on our mission report. Especially because you can’t go up onto the bridge.”

“Or,” Dick says. “We can eat some food, take our clothes off, and then work on the mission report when we wake up later. The trip back to the Andromeda will give us more than enough time.”

“This your way of saying you finally decided to be with me, lieutenant?”

Dick strokes his cheek. “I am. From where we started to where we are now… I want to see more.”

“I was a complete ass.”

“I know.”

“But part of me has always been a bit. Well. It’s you.” Jason tries to smile but it fades quickly, leaving his face a little too serious, eyes narrowed like he’s seeing something bright and beautiful for the first time.

Dick presses a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth and then to his parting lips. One day, Jason will tell him what this truly means to him. He’s braved everything else. They both need a little more time, a little more trust, but Dick's willing to see this through.

“It is I, your lieutenant ordering you to immediate bed rest,” Dick says. “You look in need of some stress relief.”

“You’re abusing your privileges as a commanding officer you know.” Jason is already taking off his shirt though, and Dick grins.

“I know,” Dick traces the lines of Jason’s muscular chest, pushing him down onto the mattress. “But it’s worth it.”


	11. Chapter 11

 

“Come on, Grayson. Show me you can take it.”

Jason growls the words into the nape of Dick’s neck, the delicate flesh between his teeth, but while his voice sounds deep and controlled, he feels anything but. Each thrust into Dick’s body sends him closer to the edge. He doesn’t want that now, not now. He just wants Dick forever in this moment.

He trails fingers down Dick’s throat following the long, lovely trail down to his abdomen. Dick’s cock jerks under the pad of his thumb and he moans so quietly.

“You want to come, lieutenant?”

Dick shivers. “Yes. Yes. Please.”

Jason rides the frustrated roll of Dick’s hips. His teeth drag over Dick’s shoulder, and when he bites down, his hand closes over Dick’s cock. He thought he’d imagined this, the fluid motion, the way the gilded together, the perfect rhythm of their sex, but he hadn’t. This is real.

Dick whines tugging at Jason’s wrist. He can only stare at Dick’s face, the naked need in his eyes, the shape of his mouth open and moaning, pleading for more. He glows in the dark of the room, so, honestly, flawlessly beautiful, like a moon rise. And once again, he falls all for Dick and his beauty. Jason needs more of this, has to savor this. He calms his frenzied pace. Quiet kisses to Dick’s shoulders, greedy hands over his thighs, spreading and holding as he thrusts deeps, holds. Dick’s groan vibrates through him, so he does it again the pauses lengthening, the withdrawal slow to the point of torture from them both. Jason can barely stand it. And Dick.

“Fuck, Dick,” he gasps, watching Dick try and fuck his way back onto his cock. He tries to back out smoothly with the intention of rolling Dick to his back, but he’s seized in a tight grip, wrists, cock, and chest, when Dick makes a low cry in complaint.

Dick whimpers. “Don’t stop. You feel so good.”

It’s too much. Jason shudders to a complete, grinding halt with his eyes closed and his teeth clamped tight fight back the orgasm threatening to burn through him. “You’re not going to get me this time,” he mutters, and Dick has the nerve to giggle against the pillows then moans sadly when Jason steps away leaving him greedy and gaping open, a thin line of cum dribbling free.

“Okay,” Jason says, voice hushed. “Okay, baby. I’ve got you.” His hands soothe down Dick’s sides easing him to his side and then back. Dick’s hair slides across his face, a veil for his brilliant eyes.

“Jason.”

His eyes travel down Dick’s body taking in the soft marks beneath his collarbone, the sharp curve of this waist exaggerated Dick’s hips twisting needily, his cock ruddy and leaking over his belly. Dick returns his shameless stare, winding his glowing eyes down Jason’s body. He licks his lips hungrily then slides hands beneath his cheeks to spread his thighs exposing his pink hole.

He whispers, “Come back to me. Come inside me.”

Even after the first time days ago, even after they crashed together nearly an hour ago, fast and fumbling until they locked together is sweet ecstasy, Jason had thought it was a dream. Nothing in life could be this good. No one has ever made him feel just this way, reckless, desperate, grounded, free.

Jason spreads out over Dick, covers him, kisses him, rocks gently. Dick must sense the change in him, because he matches Jason’s intensity, drags his fingers down the sweaty length of his spine, drags Jason closer, tangling the thoughts in his head and stealing the breath in his lungs until he’s shaking for want of nothing but Dick Grayson. He drags Dick’s knees up determined to carve a place for himself inside Dick so deep, he’ll always be remembered. He fucks Dick hard, a deep rolling snap of the hips until Dick seizes and growls at him. Dick rises to meet each thrust. His hands curl at the small of Jason’s back, fingers dig into his ass, urging more, faster, lips and teeth at Jason’s throat. Dick twists in his arms suddenly and kisses him. Jason tastes something like heat on his skin and the entire room blooms in sudden, blinding white light. It wraps around his chest like hot steel band, and he feels everything from the pleasure to the pain to the joy sweep through him. He comes with a shot, sightless and aching, Dick’s heartbeat battering at his palm.

When Jason comes down, Dick still nestled in his lap arm raised to stroke at the sweaty hair at his temples.

“Fucking supernova,” he huffs. He kisses Dick’s cheek and the sharp curve of his cheekbone.

Humming, Dick leans into the kisses. “That was wonderful.”

“Yeah.” Jason tucks his head over Dick’s shoulder just breathing, just sharing a moment in the near. “I think you overloaded all the lights.”

“Maybe.” Slowly, Dick raises the hand curled limply around his cock and brings it to his lips. He sucks slowly, and Jason groans. And then he laughs.

“What?” Dick says, softly, and Jason knows he should tread lightly but.

“I think I know how the big bang might have happened,” he whispers. Dick’s laughter is the sweetest thing.

Jason slowly withdraws and rolls to his side. Dick halts the movement with an arm around his neck and a gentle kiss his mouth.

“Don’t get fussy,” he says.

“Get fussy? Why?” He follows Dick’s eyes down to his chest. His skin pulses with the faintest blue light. It spans from thigh to neck. There’s a handprint above his heart. “Grayson, what the fuck is this?”

Dick traces the marks with his fingers. “I don’t know, but it looks like it’s fading.”

Jason twists around. There are hand prints on his shoulders too. “It’s like you’ve imprinted on me.” His chin is coaxed back towards Dick, who presses a soft kiss to his lips.

“Good,” he says. “Maybe that will help temper your impulsive decisions.”

“My impulsive decisions. My decisions? Mine.” Jason emphasizes each with a soft nip to Dick’s mouth. “Lt. Touch Dangerous Things?” He chokes as fingers slide between his thighs and squeeze.

“I like dangerous things.”

A comment like that can’t go without acknowledgement, but Dick beats Jason to it by swallowing his retort in a heated kiss. His fingers slide over the shell of Jason’s ears, stroke the nape of his neck, tilt his jaw in just the right way and Jason follows the lead. Slowly, the curl into one another, the kisses changing to long caresses and soft murmurs.

The world seems so far away, and for Jason that’s enough.

“Didn’t think I’d feel this… relaxed on the Andromeda,” Dick confesses.

“Why?”

“I have a plan. It started with the Academy. Excellent marks, excellent performance, and excellent recommendations from my instructors. Two years from now, I want to captain my own vessel. One just like this.”

Jason grins. The average path to captaincy takes anywhere from seven to ten, and the path Dick just charted places him as a captain in 4. “You want to captain something like the Andromeda, huh? I always knew you were an overachiever, Grayson. But I’ll bite. How did you see this going?”

“I figure two years serving with distinction on an exploratory vessel. A year as a journeyman commander under a nebula-class ship, and then I’ll have my own ship.”

“Or you could just have your dad proto-type a new cruiser and ask to be put on the helm,” Jason says. He realizes it’s the wrong thing to say when Dick tenses beside him. “I didn’t…. Dick, I’m sorry. I was joking.”

“I. I hoped you were,” Dick says. “I just get so frustrated by that. I’ve had to fight my way past the Wayne name for so long. I want to explore space. It’s my dream. It has been since I was a kid. But I’ve never wanted my dream handed to me. I wanted to see everything like my parents did. I wanted to go my own way.” Dick sighs. “Bruce isn’t my father. He’s my guardian. And he’s always been good to me, even if we don’t always understand each other.”

“He didn’t want you to join the fleet?”

“No. He wanted to make a place for me with WayneTech. Couldn’t fathom why I’d turn down the opportunity. Thinks it’s better to own the stars than chart them.” Dick laughs. “Okay, that’s not entirely true. Bruce just wants the resources to further his dream of saving the universe. It’s just not my dream, not the way he thinks of it at least.”

Jason studies him for a moment. “You want to be there. Help people.”

“That’s part of it,” Dick says. “I really do want to travel the stars though. Now more than ever. I’d never seen my mother in that kind of… form. I didn’t know Transcendents could be that. I want to see if there are more out there. Like you said, there’s so much they could teach us.”

In the dim room, Dick’s eyes glimmer with wonder. His curiosity had been piqued, and Jason thinks his should be too. But then he remembers the fear that gripped him during the encounter with the Transcendent. He’d been unable to move, nearly blinded by the brightness all around them, but he saw Dick falling slowly to his knees, the beam of pure green light moving to engulf him. He’d been unable to do anything in that moment.

And then it all stopped, and Dick appeared, lifting him from the ground and checking him over before advancing to the other team members. He’d stood firm, apologized to his crew.

“You’re a brave man,” Jason says solemnly. “And a good one. You’ll be a good captain one day.”

Dick cups his cheek and pulls Jason down for a kiss. Sweet, hot deep, Jason groans, hooking Dick’s leg over his waist and rolling until they’re lying flat. Dick laughs.

“I’ll probably get into a lot of trouble. I’ll need a tactical operations team to keep us safe,” he says. “Know anyone I can bring onto my ship?”

Jason kisses his again, soft this time. “I’ve got a team in mind,” he whispers. “When the time comes, we’ll be ready.”

 

* * *

 

Keeping his mind off Jason during the morning command briefing is difficult when every shift and stretch sends a pleasant ache through Dick’s body. He becomes far more focused once his weekly rotation is assigned. Bridge duty. He’d waited sixteen weeks between his first bridge assignment and his second. Now he’s received another in less than three weeks. He wonders about that, if it’s due to positive performance or the bar-set wanting to keep tabs on him.

Those fears are allayed once he relieves the rotation officer from the communications channel for the outgoing field teams.

At any given moment, the Andromeda had away teams on short range missions as part of their duty to explore and catalog the sector. Monitoring the team’s transmissions is similar to Dick’s position on the Victory with the added duty of providing counsel for the teams. He’s also maintaining communications between the Andromeda and the Carina, who is rapidly approaching their position. The two ships should meet within the next six hours. Until then, the Andromeda continues to maintain its place and the edge of graviton space.

He closes his latest response, when the operator besides him curses and pulls her earpiece free.

Dick glances over in time to see the spike in her relay channel. “What happened?”

Frowning, she rubs at her ear. “I’m not sure. Do you see this?” Her finger slides across the transmission where the spike occurred. The communication stream separated into visual components showing the transmission and the interference separately. Dick watches as the interference crosses into a range that has become far too familiar.

He pulls up the outrider sensor array running Jason’s frequency variant and finds a positive reading that coincides with the interference. It’s thin evidence of anything out of the ordinary, but it’s better to be safe. He collects the sensor information and adds it to the log.

“Notify the captain,” he says.

“For interference?”

“Yes.”

She stares at him for a moment, skeptical, but after closing out the log, she addresses Gordon. “Sir, we’ve experienced some distortion with our long-range communication channels. Lt. Grayson identified that the interference times with positive readings on our sensor array. Our findings are attached to the most recent log.”

Gordon’s mustache twitches. “Display the readings on screen.”

The holoviewer brings the transmission up. Captain Gordon moves closer. “This is within the same frequencies your crew found with the graviton cloud, Lt. Grayson.”

“Yessir.”

“Where is this outrider located.”

The TacOps specialists brings the sensor location on screen. Dick frowns, the sensor is 2 GUs away at best, at the maximum range for the outriding drones and nowhere near the quadrant where the cloud resided.

Gordon taps his chin. “Grayson, can you isolate the interference from the outrider?”

“Yessir.”

“Play it.”

“Playing the seven second interference from outrider C2919.” The first half second reveals nothing special, the typical click and hum of electromagnetic waves traveling through the background and then the spike. Dick rips the earpiece from his ear.

Beside him, the communications offers a sympathetic glance. For a moment he’d heard something through the static, a skittering, sound, a shout like a hundred voices rising in fury and then nothing, nothing at all. Glancing around the bridge, Dick realizes the others hadn’t experienced the same reaction.

Dick peers at the incoming transmission from the long range monitoring team. “Sir, the LRM observing 281B-74117 reports increased activity from the graviton cloud. The expansion rate has quadrupled as well as it’s signal output.”

“That’s odd,” Gordon mutters. “I want this information captured and catalogued under the following mission log.” Gordon rattles off a series of numbers. “Are we still outside of the cloud’s range?”

“Yessir,” says Montoya. “It will not reach the quadrant’s edge for at least 48 hours, even with the new rate of expansion.”

“Lt. Grayson,” Gordon begins. “Notify the Carina of the activity. Navigation, prepare a new course. I want to put more distance between us and it.”

“Captain, receiving additional interference at the following coordinates, but our short range sensors have no readings.”

“Bring up the view screen.”

The bridge grows silent, shocked by what they’re seeing.

A tear appears in the empty space, a redlined wound that stretches wide. From the maw floats a massive vessel, a gray ship unlike any Dick’s ever seen. It looms before them, three great arches with a read beam refracting around it. It hurts to look at it. Dick rises to his feet.

Gordon steps down from his seat and approaches the view screen. “Red alert.”

“Captain. Energy levels are rising.”

“Fortify the shield array. Pilot, evasive maneuvers.”

“Captain!”

Dick sees the projectile before it fully forms on the screens, a powerful ball of negative energy dark as the vastness of space. It hurtles towards the ship. Dick feels his heart beat racing while his hand reaches out as if to stop the negative wave swirling closer. And then, everything begins to slow. He can see it melt through the ship’s shields, absorbing the energy and whipping out faster, angrier like a sentient ball of destruction seeping through the solid alloy that is the ship’s hull.

It’s coming, he thinks suddenly, it’s coming to destroy them all.

“No,” Dick shouts. The sound of electricity catches up to his ears, a fizzling, hungry sound that raises the hair on the back of his neck.

As the energy detonates around them, a circle of blue light swarms Dick’s body, before billowing out in a roar. He slumps to the ground, and the ship’s bridge goes dark.


	12. Chapter 12

 

 

“Think of the light, my little robin. Think of the light and the light folding all around you,” she says, fanning her hands up and around in a circle. “That hugs you close. Just like me.”

Soft arms, warm, safe, loved. Dick can feel it in the light that surrounds him. His nose wrinkles intent on the pale blue spark that waits inside him. His chubby hands come together in a weak clap and then spread out in a circle.

“Like this, mommy?”

_Like this…._

Dick comes to and the first thing that registers is pain. It’s not the pleasant all over soreness that he’d felt earlier, but something that permeates his entire being. He feels like he’s been stuck in a can and shaken around. The smell of burning plastic, blood, and death burn his lungs.

The sound of the alarms makes his head throb. He opens his eyes and wishes he could close them again, but he can’t.

All around him are the lifeless bodies of his crew. The emergency lights paint them red before they fade, and Dick can see the gore sliding to the deck.

Dick wants this to be some overly vivid dream. And he wants to wake up right now. In the academy, there had been lectures on what to do if something like this happened. He had been told that he had to break out of the dream state. Don’t fall into the fugue. The tragedies that occur in space are very real. This is real.

He pushes himself to his knees and must brace himself on one of the consoles next to him in order to stand. Dick can’t tell what the console used to be, the screen is cracked and burnt out. He can see the illumination of the captain’s console across the room and he starts stumbling towards it.

On his feet, Dick can see the strange tableau in full. Several of his fellow crew members scrabble across the floor seeking to escape the blood-red film that reaches towards them, long tendrils grasping like greedy limbs. Before Dick can draw a breath for warning, the tendrils touch the crewmen, freezing them on contact. It slurps over their skin.

There’s a bright flash and Dick shields his face with his arm. When he looks again, the entirety of the bridge crew are surrounded in a thick film the color of dried blood. Their eyes are wide, and their mouths are open in soundless scream as their flesh melts away, agony on their faces at the approach of their own death. The faces of his superiors, of his captain, and of his friends are vanishing before his eyes.

He glances down in horror, but his uniform is pristine but for the smear of blood along the cuff and a bloody handprint at the knee. Slowly, he looks down at his palm. It glows steady blue, but the skin looks burned. A strange, haunting laugh bubbles in his chest, but Dick forces it down.

Something is keeping him alive, and he’s going to do something with the borrowed time he’s on. He’s going to make sure he does everything he can to save the lives that are left while the bridge crew dies around him.

Captain Gordon lies crumpled at the foot of the command chair, just short of where the wave churns and swirls with malevolent hunger. The skin and muscle on the captain’s face have melted away, revealing the bone of his skull and the deteriorating flesh of his brain. Dick’s stomach twists and he turns and vomits. He wanted to sit in the captain’s chair so badly at the beginning of this mission, and now it’s the thing he wants least. How is he supposed to do this? This thing isn’t something he was trained to fight. They had received training for nanite attacks, pirates, and even viral outbreaks, but this isn’t like anything he’d ever heard of.

He has to do this. He has to. There’s no one else that can. Only him. He was trained for this.

He drags Gordon away, looking at his hand as soon as he’s done, half expecting it to be covered in the red film, but there’s nothing there. He sits down in the chair and enters the emergency protocols. He pulls up an active 3D image of the ship. The bridge area surrounding the bridge and the forward ship bay is corroding slowly. Parts of the hull stand at 84 percent stable and falling. It looks like it’s been hit with a type of acidic energy. But how is something like that possible?

“ORACLE, this is Lt. Richard J. Grayson, identification number CMND 1021J51A2E8NGTWNG-9 establishing Command Protocols 602-B18N. I am assuming emergency command of the Andromeda.”

“Protocols established.”

Dick exhales slowly. “Perform an assessment of ship damage.”

“My systems are failing, lieutenant. I calculate twenty minutes before total failure.”

“Can you still perform an assessment?”

A long pause is reply, and then, ORACLE speaks again, voice crackling. “Assessment complete.”

“Begin.”

“The Andromeda has experienced an attack from an unidentified alien vessel. The ship’s structural integrity is at 51 percent and falling. Life sustaining systems are failing. Security systems are failing. Offensive systems are failing. Main engines are offline. Medical services are on standby.”

“The crew?”

“Over three-hundred crewman and civilians died in the initial attack. Their names are as follows: Captain James Gordon, Commander Renee—”

“ORACLE, stop.”

The soft voice halts while Dick flexes his hands while organizing his racing thoughts. He pulls up the system that keeps track of the amount of registered beating hearts on the ship, and the number of casualties that have already been inflicted.

Dick’s mouth falls open when he sees that the number of deaths has started at the bridge and is moving at a slow crawl towards the back of the ship. He has to do something to save the lives of the Andromeda. “Begin evacuation procedures by securing all pathways to the emergency pods and prepare the jump ships for transport. Extra medical supplies, rations, and fuel where necessary.”

“Lieutenant. While the hostile vessel has ceased its attack, it maintains a collision course with the Andromeda. Forty-two minutes to impact and falling.”

“Bring the vessel on screen.”

The ship appears on the view screen. The dark mass dwarfs even the clear space surrounding it.

“Can you provide a simulated approach of the attacking ship?” Dick’s eyes widen when the 3D image appears nearly five times the size of the Andromeda, perhaps thrice the size of the Space Federation’s largest capital ships.

“Engineering this is the Bridge,” Dick half expects no response, but when engineering responds, he sighs with relief. “Status update?”

“We’ve sustained massive damage to the hull that continues to grow at a steady rate.”

“Can we maneuver away from the hostile ship?” Dick asks.

“We’ve run calculations through ORACLE and we can’t do any maneuvers without risk of total hull collapse and engine failure. The ship is disintegrating, sir. There’s nothing we can do except minor evasive maneuvers in short bursts.”

Dick closes his eyes and thinks back to his training. Evasive maneuvers will only put off the inevitable. He knows what he must do. “Position the ship for the safest possible evacuation from the ship bays and rear escape pods.”

“Yes sir,” the Engineer replies. “Is there anything else you want us to do?”

“Do whatever you can to keep everyone alive during the evacuation process. Additionally, prepare the power core for overload.”

“Are you sure, Captain? ORACLE is going down and the overload release will have to be completed manually.”

Dick stares at the view screen at the hostile ship sailing closer. “I know.”

There’s no way they’ll be able to evacuate the ships in the twenty minutes before ORACLE fails, which means Dick will have to take control of the systems himself to ensure a safe evacuation. Not to mention, he’ll have to be the one to put in the command that will overload the core and provide enough of a distraction to allow the evacuation to happen safely and do enough damage to the hostiles that they won’t pursue.

Dick rubs his face with his palm, taking a deep breath before hits the controls that will allow his voice to be broadcast to the entire ship. Dick closes his eyes and hits the button, starting the broadcast.

“This is Lieutenant Grayson,” he says. “A hostile ship is attacking the Andromeda, and we are currently experiencing a mass casualty event. As sole survivor of the initial strike on the bridge, I am assuming command. All crew and civilians must evacuate the ship immediately.

“All remaining crew and civilians must evacuate. Decks 4, 12, and 15 have been sealed due to extensive damage from the initial attack. We have positioned the ship to cover evacuation paths. The drone squadrons are drawing fire while the maned star fighters escort jettisoned pods and jump ships to safety.

As Dick continues to provide periodic updates to the evacuation plan and watches the dots move towards safety on the screen, he feels a pit of dread in his stomach. He’s not going to make it through this. It would cost more life to rescue him than it would to leave him, and he doesn’t want contamination getting out and undoing all the work of an evacuation. He also has to be the one to make sure the jump ship and evac pods get away safely, even if it means sacrificing himself and the ship. He grips the arm of the chair and goes back to the screen and pales.

Red flashes appear on the screen indicating unregistered life forms. Tens become hundreds in seconds.

“Unknown hostiles have materialized on the forward decks and are making their way to the aft. Tactical crew are advised to enact hostile boarding protocols. The evacuees and the escaping ships are our priorities.

“All pilots and nav officers have been activated. Due to the risk of contamination from the hostiles, I am sealing off the bridge and all access points as they clear. Do not attempt any rescue beyond these points. I repeat, do not attempt rescue beyond these points. First priority is evacuation. Do not pack, do not grab anything as you leave. Evacuate as quickly as you can. The evac pods and jump ships are equipped with adequate food and medical supplies.”

Updates stream over the viewscreen. Dick continues to read through them keeping the crew updated and hopefully safe during their escape.

“The officer’s decks and lounge have been compromised. Total loss. The area is being sealed off. Deck four please use caution, deck five has been breached. Deck ten has been completely evacuated and is now being sealed off.”

He presses his hand to his hip and it comes away covered in blood. He puts his hand back against the wound and holds it down. Bleeding out is the least of his worries. Right now, his priority is to save the ship.

 

* * *

 

Jason peers around the corridor’s edge, blaster pulled tight against his chest. Strange energy radiates from their forms turning the air around them a shadowy gray. They’re hard to look at, but he’s able to discern six shapes floating past. He signals behind him, three fingers twice, then a countdown. When he gets to one, the corridor lights up. The containment shield chimes.

“Good job, Rayner.” Jason turns to address the thirty civilians advancing on his position. “Okay, everyone. Just like the drills. The first three tac-ops will secure the next corridor. On their signal, sprint until you hit the end and take the emergency shaft down to the hanger.”

Jason and his friends from various tactical squads had been running fitness drills on the recreation deck when the Andromeda was attacked. They entered the nearest security station and suited up, preparing for orders. When Grayson’s voice echoed through the silent room, his heart dropped.

According to evacuation protocols, the tac-ops mirrored security forces in safely escorting crew to the nearest safe exit points. The group darts through the intersection. A few brave the danger and peer at the beings scrambling against the shield. It hisses and flexes, but thankfully, holds.

The last evacuee crosses, leaving Jason, Stephanie, and Kyle to bring up the rear. Jason glances back, brow furrowing. The shield appears to be thinning at the center.

“Guys, I think we need to seal this corridor too,” he says, hoping it buys them time. The hanger is five decks down.

“Todd, look out!”

The call shifts Jason to action. He rolls to the left as a clawed hand swipes through the air where he last stood.

“Down!”

Jason ducks and two bolts of searing heat shoots past him. He follows their path through the hole it bored through the creature’s head and chest. It collapses at his feet. Jason approaches it, rifle up, shot charged.

“Good shot, Brown,” he mutters, focusing on their attacker. Now that it’s seemingly dead, the energy has dissipated, and he finds it easier to look at.

There are many places and races of beings that Jason has encountered since joining the Federation, but he’s never seen something like this. The alien's mouth splays open revealing a jaw filled with long, sharp fangs gleaming with spittle. Its skin is loose and pale, and the strange protrusions from its back appear clear and inflexible, reminding him of insectoid wings.

Kyle drops his rifle onto one shoulder and joins. Jason. “I could’ve sworn you gave a six count. This,” he nudges the corpse with his foot. “Makes seven.”

Jason peers down the hall, eyes narrowed. Six shapes still appear behind the shield. “I don’t know where this one came from. Brown, seal off this corridor.”

“On it.” A hum, a fluctuation of air and their section of the corridor is sealed off.

“Okay, let’s move—” Jason’s interrupted by three sharp tones from the emergency relay.

Grayson’s voice fills the air. “The hostile ship maintains its collision course with the Andromeda. Engineering has seen to the power core to overload. Once the lead jump ships make it to a safe distance the ship’s going to explode in the hopes that it will provide catastrophic damage to the ship and secure the surviving members of our crew’s escape.

“All able crew must complete evacuation within the allotted time.”

It’s a scenario Jason is familiar with. It’s called the Sacrifice, and each of his stellar combat trainings spent two weeks reviewing the scenarios and steps to ensure the safety of as many crew as possible beforehand, including superior officers. The idea of it occurring on the Andromeda, their home for the past year feels unreal, yet the news settles over Jason’s shoulders like a heavy cloak. He watches the information hit his friends. Kyle turns towards the speaker; Stephanie closes her eyes. They’re filled with determination when she opens them again.

“We have to get as many people possible to the ships,” she says.

“Agreed.” Jason projects the ship’s personnel list above them, frowning at the numerous red lines. ““I can set up a ping for nearby crew to alert stragglers of your location. It’ll run as a hot sweep during the descent. There are five levels between here and the hanger. Hit them all. But once you get down there, join the evacuees on the ship.”

Kyle turns towards him. “Why does that sound like you won’t be joining us.”

“Because I’m not.”

“Jason.”

“Stop, Kyle. You have your mission, I have mine.”

“No. Me, you and Kyle will evacuate once we reach the hanger,” Stephanie argues. “Either that or one of us accompanies you.”

“Fuck that. Both of us,” says Kyle.

“BTGR Brown, you and GL3 Rayner will begin the hot sweep of levels 15 onward until you reach the hanger. This is an order, Brown.” Neither of them like it, and Jason relents enough to offer them a quick grin. “Look, it’s only because I’m with you, Brown. We need to get everyone we can off this ship.”

“Where are you going?” Stephanie demands.

Jason looks up towards the speakers where Dick’s strained voice keeps a toll of the decks slowly declines. They’re losing this fight, but that doesn’t mean they can’t survive.

“To go get my commanding officer,” he says.

Brown turns away, hiding her pained expression with a choked laugh. “This is exactly like the Instructor Tialmat situation.”

Jason smiles softly. “I’ll learn one day, Brown. I promise.”

Kyle shakes his head, denying Jason’s stubbornness. “You can’t get to the Deck 1. Lt. Grayson said he closed the paths to the bridge. Come on, Todd. We’ve got to go.”

Jason stares at him knowing he’s right. But as second lieutenant, Jason has some overrides, specifically for the maintenance terminals and the elevators. He turns there, opening the elevator doors and then blasting the lock free of the terminal’s storage space. Inside is an emergency maintenance pack, which includes lights and safety equipment. He frees the grapple gun from the pack and peers up. The path is clear.

“Found my way up.” He salutes his friends, reminding them of the strength they have inside them all.

“See you on the other side,” he says, then leaps into the dark chasm, sailing upwards before their goodbyes can reach him.

 

* * *

 

With the help of the grapple, Jason slowly ascends the elevator shaft to Deck 1. His overrides force the elevator door open and he climbs onto the floor. This corridor is still but for the emergency lights wheeling slowly above. He unholsters his rifle and begins a sweep on his way to the bridge. He’d never had the opportunity to be here, never managed a rotation, and the idea that this is the only time he’d stand here saddens the dream inside him.

He turns right at the cross-section. Stops. The corridor retains the same negative haze that he saw swirling around his attackers. Entropy comes to life wherever it touches. The walls buckle at some places, the materials melt at others. As Jason continues, he finds the energy pulsing helplessly at a soft blue light bowing down from the ceiling. Strange.

Suddenly, the floor beneath him rattles. Jason leaps forward as it crumples and drops. He rolls to his knees, shot charging as a shadowed figure barrels through the hole. It drops to the ground. Jason shoots two more as they emerge. They continue to rise, a swarm of strange destruction clawing over one another.

Three more claw through the floor, swarming like ravenous locusts. Three shots charged and loosened, but Jason doesn’t have time for a forth. He goes down under the weight of alien armor and a chittering screech that rings his ears. Dry heat swirls over his face, dark as new formed stars, and he gags. The creature screeches louder.

“Shut. The fuck. Up.” Jason shouts, emphasizing each word with a hard the plating that cover its head.

The mouth widens, long teeth shining like nails, and releases another howling screech. Again and again, until Jason’s dizzy and sick from the sight of fangs snapping and the stench of ozone and decay, the herald of death. Static fills the universal translator affixed behind Jason’s ear and he swears for a moment he hears, in a sound like rending flesh— _the light, the light, give us the light_.

He shudders to a stop, and above him the toothy maw widens, draws closer. Jason rocks his knees up then kicks, launching the body over his head. His pistols fire in tandem, five tight shots rocking upwards hitting the torso, chest, neck, forehead while it flips over him. Hot ichor splashes over him.

“Shit.” Jason rolls away, swiping the yellow liquid from his skin. It burns. Fuck does it burn.

Smoke billows up from the hole and he smells something sweet in the air. Sighing, Jason pulls out an incendiary grenade from his gear box. He tosses into the collapsing hole just over the next hostile. The fires from the explosion throw him into the wall, where he forces himself to recover. He can’t stay here.

Bruised and dizzied, Jason staggers to his feet and runs to the end of the corridor, where the entrance appears surrounded by bright like a beacon, failed hope.

The bridge is worse than he imagined. Grayson sits in the command chair surrounded by the entire bridge crew suspended in energy that slowly unmakes them. Jason walks through the tableau of crewmen slumped across their consoles, lying prone on the floor, and one hovering against the far wall, each shroud in red death.

He halts when Dick takes a deep, shuddering breath before addressing the crew.

“Attention crewman of the Andromeda. Aft-deck emergency pods on level 8, 9, and 12 are available for single and triple passengers. The final jump ships are preparing for their ascent. All manned star fighters are to escort the evacuees and then begin emergency jumps when cleared of the blast radius. Estimated impact is in seven minutes. The Carina’s coordinates are available to each pod and jump ship. They are standing by for immediate collection.”

He swallows. “It has been an honor to serve with you all.” His expression is determined, his voice steady, but his fingers shake as he ends the transmission.

The navigation screen flickers and the countdown appears. The numbers trail down swiftly.

Jason steps forward. “Lt. Grayson, I’ve come to escort you to your pod.”

Dick whirls in his seat, a blaster lifted towards Jason’s chest. His eyes widen. “Jason? How did you get here? What are you _doing_ here?”

“Getting you out of here. Come on.”

Dick shakes his head. “I can’t. Most of ORACLE’s functions are offline. Someone has to be on the bridge to manually input the final command.” He points to the single control stick rising from the center of the room, just within the blue cocoon of light.

“With all due respect, lieutenant, that person cannot be you. As of now, you are the sole surviving member of the bridge. If anyone needs to make it to the nearest fortified outpost and report this in person, it’s you.”

Dick stands unsteadily. “Second Lt. Todd, you are hereby ordered to the nearest escape pod. Now. Now,” he repeats, voice fraying when Jason merely moves closer. “You have to get out of the blast radius while there’s still time.”

“Then stop wasting it and get moving.” He’s answered by a stubborn glare, but the fire is back in Dick’s eyes, so much better than the shattered light he’d just seen. “Look, I’m sorry, alright?”

“Sorry?” Dick repeats, guard so far down he doesn’t see Jason’s attack before it hits him. His head snaps back, dazed, and Jason rushes, throwing Dick over his shoulder.

The ship rocks and groans, shuddering as if the unbearable pressure has found its way through the protective shields. Jason turns right at the intersection, following his internal map of the ship’s bridge until he reaches the emergency pods for the command staff. He laughs a little hysterically when he finds that out of ten only one remains undamaged.

He releases the hatch and slides a groaning Dick to his feet. Dick blinks at him, shock turning to anger.

“You asshole,” Dick shouts. Jason barely manages to catch the first barreling at his face, but he does. He does, and he grins.

“Hey, _sol-one_ , I’m trying to save your life here. And you seriously need to explore _bem ul_. It’ll help with those blind spots,” he whispers before leaning down to kiss Dick’s knuckles. The hand he’s holding trembles, opens to cup his cheek.

“Todd. I’m ordering you into this pod. Right now.” Dick’s voice cracks. “I don’t have time to write another disciplinary report.”

Jason completes the security override within the pod. When he looks back at Dick, his smile trembles. “Just make sure you tell them this Level 5 kid did good, alright?”

“Jason, wait!” Dick falls backwards from the force of Jason’s weight. The pod doors slide close behind him. He scrambles against the internal controls, pressing frantically. His mouth opens and closes rapidly, and Jason can almost hear him.

“I’m sorry, Grayson.” He places his palm against the glass. Dick stops, eyes wet with tears. He mimics the motion, and his mouth falls open.

Jason smiles, soft and sad. “You’re glowing,” he whispers, even though Dick can’t hear him. And in that moment, he commits Dick’s face to memory, the tears sliding from his cheeks, the shape his lips take when Dick says his name.

Finally, he thinks as the pod jettisons into space, he did something right.

 

* * *

 

Dick opens his eyes and it takes him a few seconds before he realizes the urgency of the situation. The ship was compromised, Jason came to rescue him. Jason put him in the escape pod.

Jason.

He looks out the window where the Andromeda grows smaller as the pod moves further away. He jolts as the emergency thrusters activate.

“Jason!” Dick shouts as he pounds at the glass. “Jason!” How could Jason do this? They could have both fit in the evacuation pod if they had tried hard enough, he could have done more if only he hadn’t been bleeding out. Dick should have done something to save him.

He failed.

He pounds against the glass until his skin breaks and his voice goes hoarse. Tears fall down his cheeks as he watches small orbs surround the Andromeda, gathering closer to it as the core draws in heat and energy.

The overload has been initiated.

There’s no way Jason can survive this. There’s no way. There has to be something he can do. He can’t let the only thing he’d allowed himself to want more than the idea of exploring space die like this. He can’t sit here helpless in this evac pod while Jason dies alone on the ship.

His parents had died together.

Jason will die alone.

The light around the ship grows brighter and brighter before it grows dark.

“Jason,” Dick whispers.

The core ruptures, all the colors that have ever existed and more explode out from the ship. It spreads and spreads until it’s the only thing in Dick’s vision. He’s staring into a sun, he’s staring into everything he could have been. It’s the most beautiful thing Dick’s ever seen in his life. No, it’s not. The most beautiful thing Dick has ever seen is Jason. Jason smiling at him. Jason laughing. Jason bathed in the light of Dick’s glow as he sleeps. It’s the most horrific thing Dick’s ever seen in his life because it means it’s over.

It’s over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End Part One of The Stars in Us Align


	13. Epilogue

Dick opens his eyes.

Around him are swirls of light and color. Purples, blues, and pinks swirl with stars and galaxies. He looks down and his body is light, limbs barely discernible from the bright blue glow. The universe unfolds before him like a map. He can be anywhere and everywhere and nowhere all at once. But something calls to him, something far, far from this place. He looks up and sees something in the distance. He’s not quite sure what it is, but he knows he has to go towards it.

Moving is difficult, it feels like his limbs weigh thousands of pounds and are dragging through viscous liquid, but he has to keep moving forwards. He’s a planet being pulled into orbit, and he has to reach his sun.

He reaches his arms forwards and pushes, with all his might, dragging himself to a small speck in the distance.

He’s had a recurring dream before, where he’s trying to reach something, but the more he tries, the further away it gets. This time is different, the speck gets larger, and as Dick gets closer it takes shape and he realizes it’s a person.

His heart thrums in his chest and he knows it’s Jason. He has to get to Jason. It’s the most important thing in his life in that moment and Dick uses every ounce of energy and light he has to move towards him. As he gets closer, he sees that Jason is nude, body limp and face serene in sleep. Or death. Part of him supplies.

He gets close enough to touch and he reaches out. Jason’s skin is cold, but Dick calls his light to him. There’s a flash and Jason’s skin feels warm, Dick feels a heartbeat, and Jason stirs under his hand. Dick pulls him close, surrounding him with light and warmth until everything else around them fades into nothing.

“Jason.” Dick calls his name as he presses their mouths together. For a moment there’s nothing and then he hears a gasp and Jason presses back. “Jason,” Dick whispers again.

“Dick.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading our fic! And a special thanks to our fanartists for making our ideas come to life in glorious color.
> 
>  **NitroJen**  
>  Two years ago, I read an empires fic and I knew that we had to create something together. After a few months we came up with this idea and drafted up some chapters, then we decided to really write the first part and publish it as part of this bang. 
> 
> In the two years that empires and I have been working on this idea, there's been tons more collaboration between us that you guys haven't seen yet but hopefully will one day. 
> 
> Thank you to empires for the handholding, the phone calls, pushing me to really rework this idea from our first chapter drafts, and making me work on edits when I wanted to chase plot bunnies from other ideas. I also need to thank her for the support outside this fic as I've dealt with so much real life stuff too. 
> 
> Thank you to all of our amazing betas, Penta, volavi, and three3isme for helping strengthen this fic. You guys were the first ones aside from empires and I to ever lay eyes on this project and you didn't hate it. 
> 
> Last thank you goes out to Starset, the band whose music inspired this fic and some of the elements within it. Give their albums a listen and maybe you'll get some hints at what's coming next.
> 
>   **Empires**  
>  I've got a lot to say....
> 
> Two years ago I received a message from a plucky lass asking if I'd like to write something with her. Here's what Jen didn't know. I was going through a terrible time that winter. It was horrible, and honestly, I was in no fit state. However, I admire people who can do the things I can't (like math, art, and walking up to say, "hello, I like you. Wanna come over and play?" I've always been bad at that thing), and I said, sure. We started working on this idea, and if you'll allow me to say, the idea is so much fun! And so expansive. And so kewl! But things kept getting betterworse for me, and I told Jen I'd have to table this project. We worked on other things instead but there rested inside me the tiniest bit of guilt. I don't like letting people down, you see, especially someone I'm proud to call my friend.
> 
> So here we are, two years later, the first of a massive story undertaking complete, and y'all, I love it. Try and tell me it's no good, but I won't be able to hear you over all the joy I'm feeling right now for finishing this story with my friend.
> 
> Thank you Jen! For reaching out to me, for being patient with me and my writerly bs, for being understanding and always, always kind. 
> 
> Pentapoda - thank you for your clear analysis, your straight shooting, and your ability to hear what I'm saying between the rambling and the abrupt pauses when I'm furiously scribbling down either 1. suggestions or 2. an idea sparked by your very cool brain. Everyone needs someone to tell them what's not working in your story, and Pentapoda can dissect to the heart of the matter in 5 seconds flat. 
> 
> volavi - Thank you for being a consummate professional with a wealth of ideas and a conversational way about you that makes everything seem so easy! It's always a pleasure sitting down and talking fic with you, and I sincerely hope you feel the same! Also, never leave meee! Also, also... _Beowulf!_!
> 
> three3isme - It's official. You're part of my village now. I hope you understand that means I value your opinions, your evaluation of a scene/theme/mood, and your suggestions. I look forward to working with you again soon!
> 
> elwon - Thank you for lending me your ear and your writerly know-how! I feel like we ride on the same wave-length and picking your brain about specific ideas or abstract ways to take a character always lead to stronger scenes and characterizations from me. 
> 
> And as always....
> 
> You - Yes, you! You made it through the story. You sent a kudo or a comment our way. Maybe you liked it, maybe you hated it but if you made it to the end, we appreciate your time. There are millions of other places you could be right now, but you're here with us and our story for Dick Grayson and Jason Todd. Thank you.


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